The TRUTH About Motherhood

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The True Story behind my Ghost Photo
Ever wonder how to catch a ghost in a photo? I know some people do. People want proof of the supernatural. I’ve seen some really cool ones of shadowy figures, legless confederate soldiers floating in a field and orbs but never anything like the one I caught in my photo of my toddler.
It seems like everyone these days have been touched by the supernatural. We live in a world where people enjoy having the piss scared out of them but ghost stories have never much scared me. Zombies are laughable, Vampires are a sexy fetish and werewolves are just big hairy dogs with bad attitudes.
Ghosts are snapshots of the past caught in a loop. Someone dies so suddenly that they don’t realize it and they get stuck but I don’t bother them and they don’t care about me. I know some people would quickly consult some psychics about what to do if they believe there’s a supernatural presence in their homes.
It’s the same way I think about aliens; maybe they’re out there but I don’t care. I’m not afraid. Life’s too short. I have real living breathing people problems to fixate on like Trump or crazed mass shooters. Who has time to look for ghosts?
I myself am a longtime lover of the horror genre. I watched my first horror movie in the theater when I was 7-years-old. My aunt and Uncle took my 5-year-old brother and I to see it with them. It was a baby swap. They swapped their newborn for the two of us. From then on, I got all my horror books and movies from my 16-year-old aunt. I loved it.
Not only did I watch the Exorcist when I was a kid, I even read the book. I devoured Stephen King. I watched every horror movie I could. They didn’t scare me so much as they intrigued me, with the exception of the Exorcist.
I’m Catholic, I was raised to believe in that shit so that one still scares me. The rest of it, it thrills me but no fear here. Hell, I may have even wished and tried to have telekinesis as a child, like Carrie. I’d totally endure pig blood prom to be able to move shit with my mind. But normally, I don’t believe in what’s not real. However, I may have been made into a believer at my last house.
Now, let me preface this by saying that our house was a new build. I’m leery about old houses because…hello, someone has definitely died in almost every old house. It’s inevitable. But this was a new build. Apparently, I clearly forgot about the Poltergeist loophole. Obviously, having children left me vulnerable and not on my haunted game.
When we lived in that house, the girls were really small. We bought the house when Bella was 5 months old; Gabi was born while we lived there. We live there until Bella was 6.
From the time we moved in, we had lights flicker and our ceiling fan light would come on by itself in the middle of the night. In our previous house (also a new build) stereos and lights would come on in the middle of the night too. The Big Guy always rational would make it all make sense to my superstitious mind.
I was exhausted from babies and the Big Guy would tell me that it was just probably some neighbor who had the same remote and it flipped our lights on. It never dawned on me to question why the hell the neighbor was waking up at 3 a.m. flipping on all the damn lights. I’d snuggle back into my co-sleeping baby and forget about it.
When the girls were about 2 and 4-years-old, the Big Guy had to go live in another state to work so that left me alone with the girls. No coincidence, this is also when I started my blog.
I’d stay up late at night writing and I’d always turn to the hallway where our bedrooms were because I kept catching glimpses of a little girl standing in the hall. I thought it was my girls. And every time, I would walk to the hallway and then enter the bedrooms and my girls were sleeping. They were never in the hallway. NEVER.
I remember having 2 am writing sessions where all the hair would stand up on my neck and I’d get the chills. I just assumed that my body was boycotting my insomniac self. You know how that happens sometimes. Your body gives you a big F you because it needs sleep.
Then there was the time my brothers and the Big Guy were in our media room in the basement late one-night playing video games. When it came time to shut it all down and all the lights were off, all 3 of them saw a red light moving around the room. There was no source. They checked. Again, the Big Guy reasoned it away. My little brother would never spend the night at my house after that.
When Gabs was old enough to stand, we’d catch her in her room sometimes standing in her crib jibber jabbing to the corner. Looking directly up into the corner like someone was there. It creeped me out, a lot but nothing really had happened. Maybe I was just being my usual superstitious Latina self. So, I crossed myself and pretended it wasn’t happening and it was all in my mind.
I’d bring it up to the Big Guy but every single time, his rational engineering mind would say it wasn’t so. In retrospect, I think he was just trying to stop me from becoming all out, balls to the wall drama queen hysterical.
Then after about a year of this happening, one day Gabs comes running into the living room and tells me, “Mommy, Bella just told me…..” and I looked at her and said, “Gabs, Bella’s not here. Remember, Bella is at Kindergarten?”
She looked at me dead serious and said, “No, mommy. I was just playing with her in my room.”
There.was.no.one.in.the.room. I don’t know who the hell she was playing with, but it wasn’t my 5-year-old who was not in the building.
That one freaked me out. Still, nothing tangible. Maybe a toddler with an overactive imagination. That’s good, right?
My husband was still living out of state 5-6 days a week. I was still alone. I had two little girls. I didn’t have time to be ghostbusting or looking for shit that wasn’t there. Plus, I believe that ghosts are snapshots. I’m not scared of some poor sucker that died so suddenly that they don’t realize that they’re gone and they can’t move on. I feel sorry for them. They don’t bother me. I don’t bother me. In case you were wondering about my policy on such things.
However, Exorcist scared the shit out of me. I still haven’t been able to watch The Conjuring again since the first time, when I couldn’t sleep for 2 weeks.
Then, one day my sweet toddler who was between 2-3 years old walked up to me while I was sitting in my kitchen chair. She was tiny, so I shot the photo at a down angle. No one else was in the room with us (that we could see).
When I saw the photo, a photo that she has still not seen and probably never will, I literally almost passed out. I legit freaked out like nothing before. My first instinct was that OMG, my husband was in an accident and died or something and this was his spirit…on a loop.
I frantically called my husband, in another state, but no answer which only intensified my belief that something terrible had happened to him. 5 hours later when I finally reached him ( he had been in meetings all day) I sent him the picture, to which he replied, “Gabs looks adorable!”
To which I responded, “Look next to her at.the.disembodied.head!!!!!!!”
Luckily, he was on his way home. I didn’t know what to do. You know that instinct you have set the house on fire and burn it down when you find a monster spider? Well, times that times a million and that’s how I felt. I felt invaded and vulnerable and scared. Was it trying to make contact? Had it already made contact with my baby? Was that who she was talking to?
And then, I learned to live with it. Many people have asked me why didn’t you leave the house. My answer is this, because I couldn’t. My husband lived in a tiny apartment in Iowa at a contracted job. The kids had school and commitments. I had commitments. We had friends and a life. I couldn’t let it all be toppled by a head that photobombed my baby. Right?
It was always in the back of my head. I got used to knowing that something that I couldn’t see but could feel was there. All those “probably nothing” moments became something but I had to choose to not live my life afraid. I had to put my money where my mouth was and not be afraid of ghosts.
I still don’t know who or what was in my house. I never tried to make contact. I’ve watched enough horror movies in my life to know better than to open a gateway of communication. It never bothered us, other than lights coming on and photobombing us this once.
I also stopped watching all of those paranormal investigation shows because, honestly, activity seemed to pick up around Halloween when we’d watch those shows. Maybe it was a coincidence but the first time the radio came on by itself blaring at 3 a.m., it was Halloween night.
We lived there for 2 more years, just me, the girls and our ghost. Yep, I was scared. Nope, I didn’t sleep but we survived. And hell yeah, capturing a ghost in a picture is a lot scarier and a lot less cool than one might think, especially when it is in your own house.
What would you have done if you snapped that photo in your house? Have you ever had a similar situation? What did you do? Please don’t share your opinion that spirits can attach to people, I’m trying to ignore the sound of someone walking around upstairs. I choose to believe it’s my old house settling.

P.S. If you know my Gabs, never speak of this photo to her. She doesn’t know it exists and it would probably freak her out.
2017/10/31
We Get by with a Little Help from Our Friends
This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of McDonald’s, all opinions of how to help parents get through a child’s health crisis are my own.
Imagine being at the beach on vacation with your family or just spending a fall afternoon on a family bike ride. If you really think about it, you can almost feel the warm contentment that comes with being safe, happy and together in those moments with the people you love. There are so many moments in life like these that we take for granted. We all do until something terrible happens and then we don’t.
Imagine then, as horrible and unthinkable as it may be, that something tragic happens to your child. In that moment, the only thing that you want to focus on is taking care of your baby and making sure they get well. The last thing that should be on your mind is figuring out how to afford it all. RMHC helps alleviate the cost of travel for care and provides support, resources and the comforts of home to families and sick children when they are away from home for medical care.
I’ve seen it happen. The complete fog that takes over when you are thrown headlong into a medical crisis. My nephew Alex was diagnosed with leukemia when he was a toddler and it flipped our entire world upside down. You can’t even imagine how irrelevant everything else in your life becomes. You become micro-focused on the sick child because that is what the heart dictates. The head is overruled and rational thought goes out the window.
It is a moment of such desperation in a family’s history that nothing else matters; even if it should. One crisis at a time. You have to hold it together for your baby. No breaking allowed.
I watched from the peripheral as my brother and his wife went through this. It was a dark time for our entire family but it was the worst moment in my brother and his wife’s life. Their baby was sick and all they could do was pray, be there for him and get the best help they could for him. It was their sole purpose for existence in those days.
Lifesaving treatment is incredibly expensive but it’s not an option. You have to do, you will do, whatever it takes to save your child’s life. The thing is the world goes on, even while yours is falling apart. Bills start coming. You start to drown in them but you can’t focus on that, you have to keep your everything focused on getting your child to the other side of this alive and nothing else matters.
In a perfect world, lifesaving treatments wouldn’t cost so much and parents wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than caring for and being there for their child. But the reality is that life doesn’t stop when our children get sick. RMHC helps families find a way to stay close to their child when they need them the most.
On top of trying to figure out how to be there physically and emotionally for your child, you have to be able to figure out pediatric care, accommodations, and food. Some illnesses necessitate long and repeat stays in the hospital and usually, that’s not at your local hospital. It’s usually the nearest children’s hospital that specializes in treating your child’s illness because that’s the prize; your child’s life.
But hotels, travel, childcare for other children and food all take effort and cost money. It’s hard to try to figure it all out and stay focused on your sick child. While it may seem like an insurmountable challenge to your family, the world goes on. Your child is sick and they need you and that is all that should matter. To the family of a sick child, it’s the worst, most vulnerable moment of their lives but it doesn’t have that same profound effect on the rest of the world. Thankfully, there are places like Ronald McDonald House Charities (RMHC) and McDonald’s who do understand.
RMHC helps families stay together through three core programs:
1.RMHC provides comfort, support, and resources for families with sick children just steps away from the hospital.
2. The Ronald McDonald Family Room® provides moms and dads a place to recharge mere steps away from their child’s hospital bedside. It allows them a place where they can eat, shower, rest and recharge so they can be strong for their children.
3. The Ronald McDonald Care Mobile® brings medical, dental and healthcare resources directly to children near their home or school.
In 2016, alone, RMHC provided 2.4 million overnight stays to families through the Ronald McDonald House and Ronald McDonald Family Room Programs. That is an amazing gift to the families of sick children at a time when they need it the most.
McDonald’s believes that families are better together, that’s why they support RMHC. Their commitment is to keep families together when a child needs medical care and that is why from 11/7-11/19, you can donate $1, $3 or $5 at the register or at the drive-thru at your local McDonald’s to help RMHC keep families with sick children together when treatment takes them far from home.
A $1, $3 or $5 donation may not seem like much to give, less than a cup of coffee in some cases, but to an RMHC family it means the world. If you like, you can donate today at any McDonald’s. If you can’t afford to donate money but you still want to help, you can support RMHC by sharing the fundraiser with friends and family or volunteering at your local RMHC. Either way, we can all do something to help.
2017/11/07
How to Empower Your Little Girl to Speak Up for Herself
Disclosure: This post is made possible with support from AARP’s Disrupt Aging. All opinions are my own.
As I get older, I have noticed myself starting to unconsciously recoil when anyone asks me what my age is. This wasn’t something I ever thought I would do because I just never thought age was a big deal. Age was just a number and I’ve never shied away from bucking the system. Of course, when you’re young, it’s not a big deal. It’s not until you are on the other side of young that you start to consider that you might be old. The funny thing is this isn’t even by my own doing.
Everywhere I look, society is trying to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be doing at “my age”. How I should or shouldn’t be dressing or wearing my hair from the ads on television and in magazines to the articles all over the internet of women judging other women. Why is any of that important and why are any of us leaving our happiness in the hands of the collective “we”? Who knows better what will make me happy than me?
Still, here I am finding myself hesitating when asked how old I am. Becoming indignant when the gynecologist’s nurse dared to ask if I was “perimenopausal” (which I found out any woman can be beginning at age 30). I was downright offended when a grandmother at the playground, asked if I remembered when “we” were young? I’m pretty sure she and I were young a few decades apart but why does any of that matter? And why was I so upset? Conditioning.
The thing is society has taught us that as women get older they get invisible but when men get older they become distinguished. We are seen as objects of beauty and when that beauty fades, we are no longer seen at all. I’m not ready to be invisible. In fact, I kind of like the fact that I can finally be seen for my brain and my personality and not just my breasts. I’m tired of being described by my body parts. Those are not accomplishments.
Still, if you ask me my age these days, I don’t particularly want to scream it from the rooftops like I did when I was 21. It feels about as intrusive as asking me my weight and we all know that’s the worst. So I wonder, how can I know this is stupid to be embarrassed about and yet, still feel completely self-conscious about the question? It’s the conditioning I’ve had from birth; the conditioning every little girl in the world has had. How do we change this? This is not what I want for my girls.
From my own experiences, I’ve made it a mission to raise strong, independent and fierce daughters. I’ve taught them to be proud of their intelligence and their personalities. I’ve taught them to love their body. I’ve raised them believing that they could conquer the world. What I’ve neglected to consider was that I’ve shown them that there is value in beauty which I never meant to do. I’ve written their narrative using adjectives like pretty, sweet and cute.
I learned through a recent conversation with Cindy Gallop that teenage girls are the most disregarded of all the females. At first, I found that hard to believe and then I realized that it is true. No one listens to a teen girl, we are all dismissive and what message does that send? In fact, I am guilty of this myself but I am trying harder.
I’ve been actively stopping what I am doing to listen to my daughters. It’s hard when you have tweens and teens. They tend to talk a lot and it’s not all relevant but it is to them. So while I may not be interested in what every one of their friends is doing at school, I am interested in the fact that my daughters want to talk to me and that makes it worth my time to listen. It’s about giving value to her words, thoughts and feelings and not just her beauty. It’s validation for the right things; who she is, what she thinks and what she says.
We’ve unconsciously allowed the male lens to form or views for so long. We even determine our own worth with how sexually attractive we are through that lens. We need to change the lens.
Young girls are dismissed for being young. As women, we need to make sure those young girls feel heard and gain confidence to become strong and never need a man’s approval on how to live her life. We need to teach our girls to live life on their own terms and enjoy the now. We need to drill into our young girls’ heads that they are invaluable at every age because their worth is based on what is between their ears and not their legs.
Older women are dismissed, as our beauty fades, society has taught us and expects us to disappear…becoming more invisible with each passing year. But we are not invisible and we shouldn’t be treated as such. We shouldn’t be expected to go quietly into that good night. Not me, I’m going to fight to the very end. I’m going to fight for every little girl in the world.
If I could give my girls any advice to live their best life, it would be this:
- Write your own rules.
- Promote yourself because no one else is going to do it.
- Promote what you bring to the table at any age, no matter what that is…wisdom, experience, youth, energy, whatever it is that makes you an asset. We all have something special to offer.
- Understand your value at every age.
- Actively challenge stereotypes.
- Appreciate the life you’ve lived and the stories you’ve made or will make.
- Last but certainly not least, the most valuable piece of advice my dad ever gave me, if you have something to say, stand up and say it. Be heard and don’t let anyone tell you to be quiet.
What advice would you give your little girl or tween to live her best life?
2018/01/19
The Smell of Fresh Laundry Reminds me of My Childhood
Disclosure: This is a compensated post written as a part of my Suavitel ambassadorship agreement but my love for Suavitel and the nostalgia it brings are all my own.
Don’t you love it when you walk into a house or a room and it smells like freshly laundered linens? Or jumping into bed at night in clean sheets? It’s the best feeling in the world and it is my favorite smell. This is why the smell of Suavitel always reminds me of home. It reminds me of my childhood and folding laundry with my mom or jumping into warm, clean laundry before school on cold winter mornings.
For this reason, I love new fragrance pearls in-wash scent boosters. It not only smells amazing, it keeps that fresh smell lasting longer. You simply toss it into the washer before you throw your laundry in; add your detergent and then your fabric softener. It’s simple and the results are amazing with 5X longer lasting freshness, your clothes, your entire home, will smell awesome for weeks.
New Suavitel® Fragrance Pearls™ in-wash scent boosters with micro-encapsulated technology helps families extend that feeling of comfort and those exquisite aromas synonymous with a fresh load of laundry. It’s safe for all fabrics and washer settings. They’re the perfect addition to my laundry routine.
As a household staple for many Latinos, as I know it was in my house growing up, the Suavitel® brand has become synonymous with a feeling of comfort reminds me of home, more specifically, my mom. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in a house with my mom. I miss her often but when my home is filled with the fresh scent of Suavitel, like my mother’s house, it makes me feel closer to her. It brings us closer even when distance keeps us apart.
Suavitel® Fragrance Pearls™ in-wash scent boosters are now available at retailers nationwide in 21.5 oz., 14.7 oz. and 6oz. bottles. Available in two irresistible scents, the Fabulous Field Flowers® and Soothing Lavender® variants of Suavitel® Fragrance Pearls™ in-wash-scent boosters deliver longer lasting freshness to your family’s laundry. I love them because they make that feeling of being home, even when I’m away from home, last longer.
Remember, you can add just a little or a lot. It all depends on what you want out of your fragrance booster. I prefer a lot because I want the smell of fresh laundered linens to greet me every time I enter my house.
If not Suavitel, what smell reminds you of home?
2015/07/09
A Photo’s Worth a Thousand Words
Discosure: This is part of a sponsored collaboration with DiMeMedia and Shutterfly, however, all opinions expressed about photo books are my own.
How important is a photo to you? They say a photo is worth a thousand words. When I think of the most precious possessions I own, I immediately think of the people I love. These people that I am honored to call family and friends, they mean everything to me. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words and every single photo I own holds a memory of someone I love. This is why I love to give and receive photo gifts.
In the past, I’ve made mugs with our girls’ smiling faces on them for my husband. I’ve filled countless frames with photo collages for grandparents. This year, I decided that I wanted some special photo gifts for ourselves because nobody loves and adores those two little faces more than I do.
I made a photo book to keep on our coffee table filled with pics of our family adventures and important moments from the past year. I’ve decided that this is going to be a new tradition. While I’m at it, I decided to do one for my dad too.
My dad shares my passion for family and photographs. Since I was a small child he was documenting all of our special moments on film. These days he’s retired and spends about 6 months of the year in Mexico, his homeland. Spanish is his first language, He’s spent my entire life adapting to us, learning to speak our native language. He has always been thrilled when we make the effort to speak in Spanish to him.
So you can imagine how excited I was to find out that Shutterfly mi vida now offers an easy, creative and convenient way to share family milestones. Now, it’s even easier to share these with my papi with the new Spanish applications (complete with ñ’s and accents). This makes this gift even more precious for me to give and him to receive.
I took me a couple hours to go through the photos and organize the book but in the end, the result was priceless. My copy is sitting on my coffee table for anyone who stops by to pick up and look at all of the beautiful adventures we lived this year’ our trip to Nashville and the week at the beach in Maine. There are photos of the first day of school, new ballet shoes and first communion. Every moment that touched my heart this year made it’s way into that book.
It makes me smile to know that while I’m here looking at my photo book, my dad can be in Mexico looking at his when he misses us. Somehow that makes us all feel closer. Thanks to “Mi Vida Shutterfly” he can cherish those moments in his native language.
What’s your favorite photo of and who would you like to share it with?
2015/12/04
The Blogger Crisis
I’m Debi and I’m an old school blogger. I started blogging 6 years ago ( well, it will be on May 7th). I’ve seen blogging change a lot.
I’ve noticed a definite trend in blogging lately.I’m seeing blogger “midlife” (of the blog) crisis happening almost daily. Everything that is old is new again. Or at least this is what I’ve seen happening; quit blogging, start a new blog and then make a come back….when you never really left. I’m kind of missing the days of self contrived press releases about being lost in the dessert and rescued by your childhood boy scout leader.
I guess “quitting blogging” is a euphemism for “2 week hiatus” and “new blog” is what’s “on trend” these days. I’m not making light of the desire to quit blogging or feeling like you have stayed past your expiration date, the struggle is real, y’all. And of course it’s easier to start a shiny new blog than to try to restore the old one. That’s expensive and a lot of work.
Hell, I understand wanting a do over. Man, I started my blog way back before I knew bupkis about SEO. When I started blogging, I had one objective and that was to write. I wanted to share my stories with other moms so they knew they weren’t alone in this craziness that is motherhood (because, it is CRAZYTown all the way.)
Then I made friends and built a community because I loved what I was doing. I was making connections by being me. Sure my photos were not professional caliber and I didn’t know shit about what sizes to use and this was way before Instagram, Vine or Pinterest existed.
It was me blogging alone at night after the babies went to sleep and in between constant wakings. Co-sleeping was simultaneously awesome and killing me( especially the random head-butts it the middle of the night). I didn’t sleep a lot in those days but I craved the human interaction that blogging brought into my solitude life of new motherhood. You guys kept me company for two entire years while my husband lived out of state for work. You ladies (and gentlemen) saved my sanity and probably my life. YOU made it all tolerable and I survived.
Back then, I used Twitter like a phone and those 140 characters were my battle cry to whoever would listen. It was my mom 911. I made so many amazing connections; personal and business. There were no concerns of tweeting out links. Hell, I never even considered it. That was absolutely shitting where you ate. I would never text my IRL friends my links 3x plus a day and I would certainly never talk over their tweets or hijack their hashtags for my own benefit. In my defense, I’m not an asshole nor did I know what the heck a hashtag was.
Facebook was for sharing my posts, if I remembered but mostly it was for connecting to my readers. It wasn’t me virtually shouting ,”Look at me! Read what I wrote! Validate me!” It was, “Hey, so-and-so did the baby sleep through the night? How is the potty training going? Hey, you, if you need me, I’m here!” It was fun. It meant something. It was something I looked forward to. It was definitely not bugging strangers to play Farm games, JAMBERRY and poking people. HOW RUDE! I took social media and applied all the rules of real life to it and it was a beautiful thing. It worked.
People commented. We had conversations. I commented. I cared. You cared. We were invested.I craved to know their stories; their real stories. They felt safe enough to say something more than, “True.” I devoured the struggles and the triumphs. When I commented, I felt that it meant something to the person on the receiving end other than just traffic. It felt like community and friendship.
Then money came into it. Money is good and getting paid to do what you love is probably the best job that you can get. For a long time, I was naïve. I still didn’t notice traffic like I should. Hell, I didn’t even know how to check my traffic until Jessica told me to put Statcounter on my site. I had Google Analytics but I had no idea how to use it.
Then more money came and more jobs! Oh the writing jobs. I couldn’t turn any down. I just couldn’t believe someone would pay me to do this. I got to stay home with my girls, write about it and get paid. What??????
More jobs came. Then traffic goals became a thing. My free time was no longer free and soon, I felt like in order to be a good blogger I was becoming a shitty mom and that brought guilt. I decided I couldn’t live with myself in that state. My priority is to be the best mom I can be to my girls and wife to my husband but I want to be fulfilled personally too and it shouldn’t all have to be exclusive. I want to be happy.
By this point, I depend on my money. More money, more problems and all that shite. I found myself having less and less time for conversations and engagement. I started scheduling social and realizing that all of those amazing women that had gotten me through the lean years began to fall through the cracks. I still craved the conversations, the connections; the friendship. I missed every single one of you.
Then I became one of those assholes who checked her numbers constantly. I tweeted links a lot. I shared links on Facebook, Instagram and Google+. I pinned my posts and shared to Tumbler and even Linkedin on occasion. To be fair, I’ve always shared other people’s stuff too but I just didn’t get to read and comment like I wanted to. I shared it so that I could come back to it. My intentions were good.
I was writing everywhere and I began to feel like the Truthful Mommy train was over saturating the market. I’m sure you all got sick of me and I know that you knew that you could find me anywhere so why bother coming to read me on my actual website. It was too much.
I lost touch with many of you because I had so many deadlines and not enough hours in the day. It wasn’t fun anymore, it was a job. I was working really hard to build something but I’m not quite sure what it was that I was trying to build. I lost myself in the middle of my journey.
I’m not quitting my blog to reinvent myself. I’m addicted. I’ve been doing some face-lifting. Last fall, I changed the website. It’s not The TRUTH about Motherhood anymore…it is now simply just The TRUTH (because it’s not been just about motherhood for a very long time) I’ve learned that I need to organize so that I can actually spend quality time really engaging again. I’ve realized there is no shame in admitting that my blog needs some work done under the hood. I also know that some things are worth the price, this is one of them.
I’m going to pass on the Blogger Midlife crisis. I like my husband a lot, I need to give my girls more of my time this summer and I want to keep focusing on my health journey. I want to get back to writing because I love it. I want to have conversations with you. I want to surround myself with my tribe and I want us to grow together. I want my posts to be to the point where sometimes you’ll read 1355 word post and not mind because it meant something. I want us all to get lost in our stories. Who’s with me?
Disclosure: SEO was not considered once while writing this post. This post will never go viral because people don’t share like they used to. I don’t care because I enjoyed “talking” to you this morning. Let’s do it again soon.

2015/04/28
Kindergarten Teacher, Thomas Washburn, Removes 6-Year-Old Girls Shirt in a Fit of Anger & Leaves her Exposed in Front of the Entire Class
An Arizona Kindergarten teacher, Thomas Washburn, faces 26 counts of indecent exposure and one count of child abuse after he allegedly removed a 6-year-old girl’s shirt and left her naked from the waist up in a packed classroom. He did what????
Thomas Washburn, 54, a teacher at Adams Elementary School in Mesa, Arizona was arrested Wednesday when the incident was reported by the little girl’s mom and is now on “PAID” leave. Meanwhile, the little girl is humiliated and traumatized. This man should be locked up in jail.
Police said that something upset Washburn, who then started shouting in the classroom filled with 24 kindergarteners and an adult aide. The loud outburst frightened the little girl so badly that she hid her face in the top of her shirt. I know, as parents, we sometimes have these moments of insanity where we do something unconventional but that is our own children and it doesn’t happen in front of 24 of their peers and we aren’t strange men ripping their clothes off and leaving them naked and exposed.
Further infuriated by the little girl’s behavior, Washburn told the little girl to take her face out of the shirt. When she did not comply, he took her shirt off of her, leaving her naked from the waist up in front of her classmates for about 10 minutes. The little girl began crying, presumably a combination of the fright of having her shirt ripped off of her by a crazed old man, someone she trusted, and being naked in front of her classmates. Eventually, the sonofabitch returned her clothes. This makes me want to bust this guy in the face with a ball bat. I’ve had a teacher pull my kindergartener to the front of the class to point out that her uniform was not to code and that was enough to make me livid. I not only approached the teacher and told her in no uncertain terms that she was to NEVER embarrass my child again but I even contacted the principal because, in my mind, this is not acceptable to do to a child. If she would have removed a piece of clothing or touched her, I’m certain I would have physically hurt her.
To make matters worse, the victim’s mother said her daughter was born prematurely and is “developmentally delayed.” This man is a piece of garbage and clearly does not need to be teaching in the classroom.
Ok, that was what the report said, more or less, now let me tell you what I think. You see I have a 6-year-old girl and believe me when I tell you that if a teacher, male or female, ripped my kids shirt off of her in a fit of rage or what the fuck ever was going on, this person should expect to feel the full wrath of myself and my husband. I’m saying this asshole should hide because I’d be at his house to collect him with a ball bat, take him to the mall and strip him down in front of the world to let him stand there on display with his bad attitude and his little dick in humiliation for the full ten minutes in which he let the child do the same and then I would beat him with the said bat. This asshole should not be allowed alone with children. He obviously has some sort of anger issue and has no clue as to how to handle an uncooperative child. He needs to lose his job and be punished for this for the rest of his life because by doing what he did, that will follow that little girl for the rest of her life. She will be afraid of grown men in positions of power and feel vulnerable and threatened. As far as I am concerned, this man is an animal and belongs in a cage.
If he couldn’t handle the crazy unrest of 6-year-olds than he should have stayed the hell out of a kindergarten classroom. He should have walked away. No matter what was going on in his life to make him have a bad day, his responsibility is to protect and teach those children and there is an expectation from those parents who are leaving their child in his care that he actually CARES for their child, not humiliates them in front of the class.
What would you do if a teacher did this to your 6-year-old?
2014/01/18
Horrifying Boston Marathon Bombing Kills Two,including an 8-year-old Boy
This Patriot’s Day the 117th Boston Marathon was bombed near the finish line. Today at 2:50 pm EST, 2 explosions went off 5- 15 seconds apart on the crowded streets in front or in the Marathon Sports Running center near the intersection of Boylston and Exeter Street leaving 23 injured and 2 dead, one an 8-year-old child, so far. The explosions happened 100- 150 yards apart. Most injured appear to be spectators. There were some 500,000 happy unsuspecting spectators waiting to cheer on their loved ones at the finish line. The 26,000 runners were running in honor of the Newton victims with a flag with 26 stars at the finish line. According to authorities, there was a third explosion at the JFK library. They are calling this an ongoing event and advising all Bostonians to stay at home and not to congregate in large crowds. I am shocked and horrified. (more…)
2013/04/15
#BlogHer13 was All about One Hug
As you might remember, for about a month and especially the week prior to my first ever BlogHer, I was quite the hot mess mentally. I was overthinking everything. I wasn’t necessarily nervous about going to the conference and being a newbie because I am not a newbie. I have been blogging for over 4 years and I was mostly having some anxiety about whether or not I would live up to what people were expecting. I know it sounds so high schoolish when I say it out loud. It is. High school is exactly what the anticipation of my first BlogHer felt like. Luckily, it was nothing like that.
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This is me, the first night of BlogHer13!
I am lucky because I have the good fortune of knowing a lot of people online and even more fortunate that they extended invitations to me to hang out in person. I will always be forever grateful for Tracy Beckerman for inviting me to a dinner on Wednesday night with a wonderful group of men and women that are not only funny, they are some of the most wickedly down-to-earth, awesomely humble rock stars I have ever met.
I was afraid that even though we’ve “known” one another “forever” online, they were going to take one good look at me and ask “Who the fuck are you?” Surprisingly, they did not. Each one grabbed my neck and hugged my genuinely and pulled back with a knowing smile and instead of feeling like an overwhelmed newbie, I felt like I was at a reunion, returning to my blogging home. I mean these people GET.ME! They.Really.Get.Me and let’s be honest, they know more about me than most people who I see everyday. I don’t give people I know the url to my diary. It doesn’t happen. That set the tone for my entire experience. It only took one hug.
Then my roomie showed up; the phenomenon that is Jenni Chiu; Vlogger Extraordinaire and wickedly awesome wordsmith. She got in late Wednesday night. I was asleep but promptly woke up when she walked in. The first thing I saw was her smiling face (now that I think of it, she was probably laughing because I was most likely snoring like a boss). She hugged me like a long lost sister and we talked into the wee hours of the night. We were instant best friends and it only took one hug.
Sure, there were parties, events, dinners and meetings but it all boiled down to one thing for me; being myself and leaving myself open to getting to know a whole lot of amazing women. Putting faces to voices, seeing the knowing in their eyes, people who know all your secrets and still read you and want to meet you is a beautiful thing.

There were a lot of awesome people and amazing things. I won’t name them all because honestly, I don’t want you to be jealous of all the fucking amazing women I got to spend 5 days in Chicago with. My experience is not your experience and yours is not mine and I am sure you had your own amazing women you spent your 5 days with.
But I did learn a few things:
Don’t over pack! Dear Lord, did I ever. Seriously, you don’t need to take 15 outfits for 5 days. And don’t pack more than 3 pairs of shoes but pack loads of undies because these are some funny people.
Unless you are photography blogger, leave your ginormous DSLR at home.
You do not need your laptop. I am a pen and paper kind of gal.
Bring lots of water.Lots.Of.Water!!!
Take more photos! I got so wrapped up in meeting people that I completely forgot to capture the moment in photos, which is good because they had my full attention but bad because now, I have no photos of their gorgeous faces.
Do not attend everything you are invited to. Honestly, I was triple booked every day all day long. I had to miss a lot. Pick what is a good fit for you and your blog and then focus on a few more intimate gatherings. Believe me the conversations that I had with women in the middle of the night in hallways and lobbies were awesome.
Swag is nice but it is NOT the reason to attend a conference. I prefer hugs and smiles, long conversations with new old friends over anything else.
Don’t drink too much. There were a lot of people trying to summons their liquid courage; it ended with dancing like Elaine from Seinfeld, slurring to complete strangers that you love them and crying in the bathroom. I don’t recommend it. I hear the morning after hangovers were epic.
Go to VOTY! It is the most important part of BlogHer. It is what we are all about; the writing. I hope.
Wear comfortable shoes!!! 5-inch heels have no place on the expo floor. Well, unless you are one of those awesome broads who has no feeling in her feet and can do that sort of thing. I, myself, have a tendency for my feet to mutiny and hyper-extend. Even in wedges, I wake up with punishing Charlie Horses in the middle of the night.
Give feedback! Don’t be a complainer, give BlogHer constructive feedback. For instance, I feel there should be an even more advanced track for bloggers who have been doing this for a long time. I also feel that a couple of my sessions that I really looked forward to, fell flat and were disappointing because the speaker didn’t focus on her topic. That was frustrating after a paid all that money to learn something particular and the speaker failed to share her knowledge in a helpful way.
Don’t be afraid to join the conversation. Say hi! None of us bite. I think by nature most of us are a little bit introverted (we work online from home, we are not the most outgoing people) but I swear, I will hug the shit out of you if you come up to me and tell me it’s nice to meet me, you read me or you follow me. Just ask Nicole.
Embrace the fan girl. We all have one and we all are one, on some level. We write online. For me, I write completely openly and honestly because, in my mind, I am alone on my computer but that actually creates a connection with my readers (your readers) as I found out this past weekend. So when a fan of your work comes up to you and squeals and squees about how great you are…grab that girl and hug her out do.not.give.her.the.blank.stare. If you do, you are the asshole in this scenario, not her.
Take time to make people connections, it is NOT all about the swag, or how many “famous” bloggers you can meet and cross off your list (even though FULL DISCLOSURE, I did go completely FAN.GIRL. on Ree Drummond. It’s embarrassing but I may or may not have completely body checked her when we were going into VOTY. Sorry Ree!)
Be yourself!!! OMG, the best thing said to me at the entire conference was a blogger who told me that I was completely the same person online as I am offline. I hope that was a compliment. Either way, I am taking it as one. Of course, she may think I am a complete asshole online:)
Bottom line is BlogHer is for connecting; faces and voices with blogs was the connection I wanted to make and I did. I tried to see everyone I promised to hug and if I missed you, I am sorry. I honestly, loved meeting each and every one of you, even the woman who said hello, threw a card at us and ran away. Come back! I don’t bite. I might hug you hard and kiss your cheeks but I do not bite.
Thank all of you who I met for making BlogHer an unbelievably amazing experience. I feel renewed in my blogging. I don’t feel like I am alone in a room anymore because I know there are people out there, connecting with me and to my story and they care. All this started from one hug.
What was your greatest take away from BlogHer13 or any blogging conference you have attended?[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
2013/07/30
Letter to Parents of Autistic Teen, Max Begley: “You have a Retarded Kid, deal with it!” Not a Hate Crime

WTF is wrong with people? I have seen some pretty crazy shit in my lifetime but nothing compares to the disturbing letter written by an anonymous Newcastle, Ontario neighbor calling herself, “One Pissed Off Mother” urging the parents of a 13-year-old autistic teen, Max Begley, to “…take whatever non-retarded body parts he possesses and donate it to science…” Going so far as to write the words,
Do the right thing and move or euthanize him!!!
If you read the above letter and your jaw did not hit the ground, I’m not sure that we can be friends. When I read this letter for the first time, first I was in shock, then my heart was broken that someone would say something like this about another human being, never mind a special needs child and lastly, I was pissed off and that is where I am this morning.Hey, anonymous asshole, you are not the only pissed off mother today. I’m pissed off too. Pissed off that animals like you are not kept in cages. Let’s be clear, Max Begley has a disability that he was born with. He has no control over it. YOU.CHOSE.TO.BE.AN.ASSHOLE!!!!!!
The even crazier part is that police won’t be able to pursue hate crime charges for the anonymous letter.
“Despite the hateful language used … the content of the letter falls below the threshold for a hate crime,” police said in a statement Tuesday.

Police are asking anyone with information regarding the case should call Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477 (TIPS and they are still moving ahead with a criminal investigation. This cannot be swept under the rug. These actions were too heinous and reprehensible.
If that is not dripping with hatred, I don’t know what is. This letter is the epitome of hatred.The one good thing to come out of this whole awful ordeal is that the community is rallying around Max and supporting his family. Tolerance and kindness are filling the space where hatred once was.
We all have bad days. Maybe this one pissed off cretin was having a bad day. Maybe her “normal” kids were being monsters and she was trying to get everything around for back-to-school, maybe her husband’s a drunk who beats her, maybe her daddy didn’t love her, maybe she can’t find a job, maybe she’s not slept in 9 years and she’s about to lose her house and maybe she took all her frustration with the world and her life and put it into this letter, viciously attacking and wishing death on a child. Maybe she needs mental help? Even taking all of these conditions into consideration, that is NO excuse to call a child names and tell his parents to do the world a favor and euthanize their son.
As a mother, I am appalled that any other mother would not only lack the compassion it takes to write such a disgusting letter but be so callous in her disregard for this child’s life and for the struggles of his parents. Let me be clear, this “one pissed off mother” is a C You Next Thursday in the worst way and I kinda hope her identity is revealed and the neighbors ostracize her ass right out of the neighborhood. This woman should have her children taken away and her uterus removed because she does not deserve to have children, be around children or humans; big or small.

I am still in shock that any “mother” would ever think such things, never mind, write them down and send them to someone.Why would she think that these parents of Max Begley should take their child and move to a trailer in the woods? Just because he was born with a disability, does that make him less deserving of medical attention and love and life? He has done nothing to deserve this hatred from her other than being vocal in his neighborhood.
This is everything that is wrong with this world. So called “normal” people wanting to lock those of us who are different away in a tower, an institution, a trailer in the woods or a deserted island hidden from the world like some kind of monsters. Just because you don’t see us doesn’t mean that we don’t exist. Just because you ignore us doesn’t mean that we don’t feel and your cruelty cuts deep. You, one pissed of mother, you are the monster!
Anyone who can write the below line has their own set of problems beyond a autistic teen being a vocal “nuisance.”
I HATE people like you who believe, just because you have a special needs kid, you are entitled to special treatment!!!
They do not want special treatment. That is the entire point. They want to be treated like any other family. They want to live in a neighborhood and be a family. It is monsters like one pissed off mother who make this impossible by being cruel, unkind and lacking of human compassion and understanding.
What do you think of this One Pissed Off Mother? What would you do if you were Max Begley’s parents?
2013/08/20