I am the Flow.
love of my life.
I am so good at not caring, maybe a bit too good. my whole life, shitty boyfriends, guys who don’t deserve my time, or my perfected perfect blow job. I have become accustomed to turning a cold shoulder and having the “whatever” mentality. I actually wasn’t even sure I believed in love, at all. I mean of course my parents love me, and I love them more than I can even put into words without my heart completely thawing and my eyes tearing up. So much.
When I had Conor, and we spent every night together, morning, and afternoon. I knew in that instant he was my true love. He litcherally was the love of my life. He was, and is everything. He is my calm after the storm, whether it be after the girls test my patience, or just a bad day. He is my internal voice. I swear he was a gift I never knew I needed or wanted. He makes me laugh and his heart is so kind. He’s everything I wish I was and I am lucky to know him, and have created him.
He’s so grateful. I give him so much love and so many material things and he expresses his appreciation for all of it the way no one else in my life ever has. He is the kindest soul. I don’t think I’ll ever know a love so pure. Cheers to Conor. People always say you never know love until you have children, they are 10,000% true. A perfect gentleman, the one and only person I’d ever trust with my heart, and the only love of my lifetime. May no one ever look at me the way he does and not mean it. Happy Birthday. xo.
just breathe.
Real or Fake
When I was a kid if you would’ve told me I would ever have a fake tree as an adult, I would’ve wrinkled my nose, squinted my big blue eyes, and stomped my foot and yelled, “Blasphemy!” My family loved Christmas. We were so traditional in every aspect. We would all load into the mini van and go get the tree together, decorate it while my mom played Bing Crosby or the Chipmunks Christmas album and burned balsam candles just to create the perfect smelling Christmas ambiance.
My mother would let us load up the tree with all of the ornaments we made for her at school each year. I’m talking toilet paper roll Santa Claus, paper ornaments that had been through it over the years, pictures of our faces that were laminated and cut into a Christmas shape. You name it, we made it, and she kept it. The tree wasn’t themed and it definitely did not look like it belonged in any magazine. After we would finish putting the balls, colored lights, and garland on, my mom would break out the good stuff. If you were born in the 80’s and your mom was a bad ass Dolly Parton loving stay at home mom, you know what I’m talking about. The fucking tinsel. She would play it off like there was actually a way of doing it wrong and walk us through it, “Grab just a little, only a little on each branch.” It was amazing. She loved tinsel and thought it was so beautiful.
Fast forward to my adult life- I thought I would litcherally die if someone tried to put tinsel on my adult Christmas tree. Kids decorations, yes, of course. Bring it on. The kids put all the decorations on while wearing Santa hats, it’s actually adorable. But, when they go to bed I basically redecorate the tree the alone. I move all the ornaments they put on because they put them all on the bottom and then a couple rando 5 branches. What kind of Christmas control freak am I?! (I’m definitely yelling 😉) Now let’s get into the real and fake, as if this should even be a discussion. I own a fake tree, but for good reason, and I’m not proud of this. I bought a fake tree because I love Christmas soooo much and I always wanted to get our Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. I was getting so upset because the tree was droopy and sad by Christmas Day. It was litcherally dying every year a couple days before Christmas. It’s branches would hang down and the balls would litcherally expel themselves onto the floor. It was so depressing.
I came up with a new plan. A fake tree that would go up the day after thanksgiving and a real tree closer to Christmas. Now my ultimate dream would be to head out into the actual woods also known at the forest, with all the kids and have my super manly husband in a red and black plaid shirt with a safety vest on (for safety reasons obviously) cut it down with an actual ax, swing the tree over his shoulder, and then tie it to the roof of our car. (Also while not ever muttering one negative thing about the entire event) Let’s just all take a second to visualize that. OK- moving right along, now let’s pop back over to reality, this is what really happens- I head up the street with family in tow, kids run around trying to find the best tree, we can only buy a Fraser Fir, why, I have no fucking clue, and then we pay top dollar, and some guy who smells like weed ties it to the top of my car and I tip him $20.
Soon as we get home kids think the decorating is about to go down. Every year I tell them we have to wait until the next day. Something about the branches need to fall, which doesn’t really make much sense. I mean it was perfectly fine at the tree farm and it was only tied up for about 15 minutes. Such a buzz kill for them. But. They almost don’t even really care anymore because at this point we have already decorated the fake tree. Let’s talk about the fake tree, it’s huge. It’s covered in glitter, and it comes in three pieces. I thought a fake tree would be less messy, but by the time I’m done setting it up I’m sweating and covered in glitter. I look like a stripper on a Saturday night.
Do I really need two trees???? I like the feel of the real tree, the smell, the Christmas nostalgia. Two trees is maybe confusing. How does Santa even know where to put the presents?? I’m definitely going for just one real tree this year from the Christmas tree farm up the street with the weed guy. We will pull out all the tricks, the balsam candles, and I’m taking the gloves off on the perfect Home Magazine Christmas tree. We are breaking out the fucking tinsel for an 80’s vibe Christmas tree. The only rule this year is that there are no rules.
Apple Picker.
So I was chatting with a friend and they mentioned someone they knew was going Apple Picking this weekend. I still think this is the dumbest fucking waste of time. Do not get me wrong, I love being outside and nature type things. Well besides bugs that jump/fly. Jump flying is awful, it’s like a new type of hybrid bug that basically glides through the air and lands on things blindly. Mostly me. They land on mostly me. They are erratic and I foresee my death as: heart-attack from a jump/fly bug.
I grew up in Florida and no one paid the big Orange Grove owners money to come pick their oranges. In fact, it was the complete opposite, the orange grove owners hired basically illegal immigrants for lunch money, to pick their oranges for them so they could sell them to the Donald Duck factory that makes orange juice and stinks up Lake Wales and all of 27? (if you’re from Florida you know what I’m speaking of) No one wanted the job of picking oranges. In fact, kids at school would call other kids an “orange picker,” as a mean name. I’d drive by the groves with my parents and see all the working men on ladders picking the oranges. There would be squishy soggy ones one the ground and when it would get really hot they would start to smell a bit funky. But, my point is, we didn’t all get our matching booty shorts and tanks on, and go “in season” asking if we could borrow their ladders and start picking. So when I moved here, I was all. WTF…..
Welcome to New Jersey, the Garden State. Here Apple Orchards charge families in matching flannels pretending to be happy $7 a person. Oh, and then $15 extra dollars for a bag to hold the apples you picked. For a family of 5 that’s $50 dollars! Basically they all go for the 3 good pictures that they can post on IG. These pictures are able to captured in between their kids arguing and their parents complaining about how crowded and expensive everything is. There are tons of bees that are soooo confused and just looking to sting someone so they can kill themselves. They don’t know if it’s cold or hot or what’s the hell is going on. None of us do really. During the day it’s in the 70’s and at night in the 50’s. Next are the flies and then the fruit flies and now the dreaded spotted lantern flies. (If you’ve read my previous post you know I run rallies on killing lantern flies daily) There is only one thing I hate more than lantern flies and that’s Apple Picking.
So, you get to the orchard and YOU pay the farmer to do a job for HIM (or her, settle down). I feel like when you get there you should clock in, pick some apples, and then get paid for how ever many hours you were working. You should then get a discount on the apples you picked if you decide you want purchase them… makes so much sense. OR the farmer could just hire actual employees to pick his apples and sell them to the local grocery stores. We then could just go to grocery store and grab them in a bug free environment, and put them with the rest of our groceries in the FREE bag that we brought with us.
I mean what are we essentially paying for? A picture of a day that we all wore matching outfits and were pretending to have fun in. Lifting the kids in the trees, telling them 10x not to eat the apples until you wash them, getting stung by a bee, or the kids want to go home because they hate bugs. My kids would jump off a cliff to get as far away as possible from a house fly. My favorite part of apple picking would be going home. And not so fast, you know you’re not leaving the orchard without all things apple and fall like. Apple Cider $7, Apple Cider Doughnuts $10 for a 6 pack possibly. Maybe you get a little crazy and take home an Apple Pie for $12. I mean holy shit, that is almost $80. You could’ve paid a photographer to meet you in the woods and taken some gorgeous fall foliage shots of your family and it would’ve been the same price. Or you could do what I do, go by yourself to ACME and buy a bag of apples and save $70!
People up North say Florida people aren’t smart, well I beg to differ. Maybe us Florida people think everyone here is just a bunch of “Apple Pickers.” xo.
Absence. (This is deep)
I woke up this morning and the air was crisp and cool. The leaves were spread out under all our tall trees like a beautiful blanket just waiting for visitors. It was beautiful but I still felt sad a little. The sun was out but she wasn’t as strong as she used to be in the weeks passed. I put on my favorite winter hat and actual shoes. I took a deep breath and said goodbye. I know she only leaves because she has to. If she never left no one would miss her or truly appreciate her as much as they do. You can’t miss something that’s always there. So long sweet summer until we meet again. ❤️
Watch the tram car please.
I love the beach. The sand is so soft and warm. Yes, ok sometimes it’s terribly hot in late July and August and it feels like you are walking on hot coals as part of a weird contest or initiation, but….. details. Anyway, it parts and falls perfectly around your bare feet when you walk almost like a perfect piece of art. Or like you’re walking on a cloud maybe! The ocean roars in the background. Her waves fold perfectly and then crash onto the beach and once in awhile carry in some beautiful meshells. The salty air, sunkissed skin, smell of sunblock, I mean need I even go on?
Now I’ve actually never spent the day at beach where if I turned around I could see the boardwalk. Why you ask, because I fucking hate the boardwalk. Also, I would rather smell the salty air than french fries or weed for that matter. If posed with the question would you rather go to boardwalk or drink blood, (which I’m not sure why this would even be an option) but I’d have to think about it. As a teen and through my young twenties, my parents had a beach house in a hopping south jersey town that had a huge boardwalk. I would waitress and stay there in the summers. Everyone went to the boardwalk, and I ALMOST liked it back then.
I mean, I was never into drugs or drinking and basically that’s what they were going there for. To get fucked up and walk around. However, they also wanted to go to pick up hot guys, and that I was game for. As you get older though you realize the guys you want to meet are not hanging out on the boardwalk! The cheesy stores with hermit crabs, and lifeguard sweatshirts, and loud club music with annoying sales people that look like kidnappers. The food. How much food can people eat? Cheesesteaks, fried Oreos, Sausage and peppers, churros, pizza the size of a small child. Cheese fries, zeppoles, and my least favorite, FUNNEL CAKE. No shit, today I was presented with a coupon that stated, “buy 6 zeppole’s and get 3 free!” Who the fuck eats 9 zeppole’s?!!!????
How have I never seen someone actually just die of a heart attack from clogged arteries on the boardwalk. After all these “happy” humans eat this awful food then they proceed to litter it all over the very boardwalk they claim to love and eat on. All this garbage eventually ends up on my precious beach. Not the food though, the seagulls claim whatever is left of that. Which by the way, have you seen a seagull at the jersey shore lately?! They are not even of bird size anymore. I saw a seagull that was bigger than my friends puppy the other day. I could’ve put it on a leash and walked it down the road and no one would’ve noticed. People are going to start riding them like dragons soon.
The games too. How do you shoot a round basketball in to an oval hoop?! You don’t… Unfortunately my children love the boardwalk. I took them today because they were off of school and I’m a good mom. No one got stolen or ate anything fried. They went on a bunch of cheesy rides and I spent $75 at the arcade so they could walk away with terrible stuffed animals from the claw machine where you can only win on the, “play to win,” ones that cost $5. Oh, and we also won a monster bag of sour patch kids. They had a great time, and for that I’m grateful. Other than that, fuck the boardwalk and all it has to offer. Here’s to the winter for a minute. ❤️✌🏻
Don’t be Salty.
Yes please…. #publicserviceannouncement
Ok. I’m a little sweaty. I’m not even sure where to start with this. First I’ll start with the fact that I have a new found love for any man that has OCD. Ohhhh, ok so you love a clean house and can’t fully focus until every pillow is perfect. Your fridge has to be spotless, and all labels facing in the same direction, yes…… keep talking. This is like my new favorite sexy talk. I mean, I never even thought about this in my single years! Find a man with OCD! What some think of as a weakness could be your very winning secret ingredient to reap the rewards of the perfect match. (Well that is if you’re not a messy girl, if you are, that will never work out.)
Single ladies listen up, this is the answer you’ve been looking for! This blog is for you! Don’t waste your time dating guys who don’t even make their beds! Forget about dick pics and dirty text talk. Find a man with OCD and let him send you pics of his perfectly organized closet, or his beyond organized refrigerator. I mean you should welcome any pics of said OCD guy, like laying in a crisp white towel with clean folded clothes perfectly stacked around him. Or maybe like a shirtless cleaning selfie. Whatever does it for you. Any of the above sounds like a dream to me.
These guys exist. You may not know any, and they may even go unnoticed. You can’t always judge a book by its cover. You may think the perfect man in a custom tailored suit is beyond clean because he looks and smells good. Perhaps at home his bathroom is disgusting and he has globs of toothpaste in his sink. You also may meet a man who has hot topic hair, a hot bod, and a messy car, but he can’t sleep with dishes in the sink. Unfortunately, you may not find these things out until a bit into dating perhaps and this is why I’m telling you now.
Leave dishes in the sink and see if he freaks. Or piles of laundry on your closet floor. (I would not be able to complete such task because I would semi freak out if it didn’t get done in a timely manner and just do it, which would foil my plan.) I don’t know. Whatever you do, don’t tell him you feel the same way. He could just be “me too” ing you. The proof is in the unexpected hangouts, and background of casual pics. Go through any pic he has ever sent and check for a perfect background. If something is out of place, he’s busted. Can’t have OCD and have a selfie with a messy background.
Also. Last but not least. If you find a man who likes to clean, or fuck it, who NEEDS to clean to function properly. Well my dear you’ve just won the boyfriend/husband lottery. Oh and also, I get there are some people with OCD that struggle with serious daily activity problems, don’t be mad. I’m not talking about you. I’m only speaking about hot guys with OCD cleaning problems. #thankyounext➡️
Eerie Emma.
My five year old daughter loves scary movies and creepy shows. I mean she is only five! She can litcherally watch an episode of goosebumps and fall asleep. Meanwhile, my nine year old son covers all the vents in his room because he watched “IT” last Halloween with my not so brilliant husband. 🙄
Last Halloween we took a trip to the Halloween store as we always do to pick out our Halloween costumes. This is obviously one of my five years olds favorite places to go because everything is creepy including all the employees. We are looking around and she finds this doll. She loves it and has to have it. It is basically a dead zombie baby. I immediately say, no way. I’ve seen Annabelle, I know how this all plays out. Now she’s crying, “I love her, I’ll keep her in my closet, blah blah blah.” First of all, I am not buying a doll that you’re too scared of that you have to keep in your closet, mostly because I know that “her closet” means, “my closet.” I do not want that dead zombie baby in my closet.
We leave with costumes and she cries the whole way home. I stupidly promise her I’ll get it for her next year. Guess what, it’s fucking next year and she didn’t forget! We drive to the beach yesterday and pass the Halloween store which is obviously already open because it’s August. (Insert eye roll) Of course she spots it, I mean why wouldn’t she, she never looks out of the window but today, she’s not missing a thing. All day at the beach, all she talked about, this damn dead baby zombie doll. She asks me if I can, “search it up.” A term my nine year old has passed down to her, meaning can I google it and show her pictures. I hesitantly say ok. I look up the doll on the Halloween store website. Bad idea.
She is now blocking my sun and casting a shadow on my almost perfect beach day. Well it was already just an almost perfect beach day because of the spotted lantern fly invasion. I mean holy shit, litcherally everywhere. In the ocean, all over the beach, on everyone’s beach chairs, on my persons! I’m still not over it. All day just slinging sandals and slaying lanterns. It was like Evony at the beach and I ran about 100 rallies. That alone should have gotten me my wings. And I’ve officially lost it. Anyway moving along. I pull up the pictures and there was maybe three or four. And then……. A quick little video.
The creepy dead baby zombie doll was all like, “you can put me in your closet, or under your bed, or you can just keep your eyes closed.” Or some shit like that I’m not exactly sure but it was in the creepiest little girl voice. My daughter looked at me and was like, “maybe I don’t need that doll.” I was like, “awwwww, you sure?” “We can go get it today!” Now I’m litcherally just calling her bluff because she has annoyed me for so long about it but I can tell by the sheer look of terror on her face she never wants this doll in her bed. She said, “no I think it likes to live at the store.” Thank you google!
Last night she mentions it before bed. I was like, we don’t need to get the doll dont worry, go to bed. Love you. She falls asleep. I go to bed and I’m so happy sleeping, I’m in my own bed, everyone’s in their beds, all is right in the world. (Well besides family feud blasting in the background 😩) As soon as I fall asleep and start to dream I’m awaken by someone poking me, like I died and they are just checking to make sure I’m actually dead. It’s my nine year old son. Guess what, he can’t go to sleep, he’s toooooooo scared, of what you ask??? The fucking creepy dead baby zombie doll from google. I send him back to bed. He comes in about 10 more times. Each time after I had just drifted off to sleep. Again, with the poking. The damn doll thing. Finally he falls asleep. Now it’s 3am. My daughter comes in, she’s scared. Guess why!!! The dead baby zombie, now I’m out of my bed and in hers. Now it’s 5am. I wake up and head back to my own bed, guess who is up????? My middle! Just reading a book! 😩😩😩 follows me to my bed and gets in. Now my husband comes out of the shower as his usual chipper self. (Sarcasm) I’m pretending to sleep. He’s commenting on how I’m only ever sleeping in our bed when he’s not. I think of maybe telling him how awful my night was, although I never sleep fully through the night because at least one of my kids always wakes me up, but I don’t. I don’t think one of our three kids has ever kept him up all night.. The difference between moms and dads is one for the books. I ignore him and bite my tongue. (Which if you know me, is an impossible feat.)
This morning my wonderful kids who always sleep in, woke up at 7am. 7am!!! They don’t even wake up that early for actual school. I have to drag them from their comfy beds by their adorable little toes. They are all fighting by 7:23am. All super cranky from being up late and dreaming of dead baby doll zombies. I’m not sure how I’ll survive today but I’ll do it! Maybe a family nap mid day? Maybe we go buy the dead baby zombie doll and throw it in the fire-pit? I don’t know but I’m thinking maybe it’s better to order all the Halloween costumes online this year because mama needs sleep and my children do too!
Txting
First let me start this blog by saying I’m sorry if I never text you back. It’s not that I didn’t want to, or that I was soooooo busy. I just sometimes read a text and then need a second or I say the response in my head but don’t actually txt it. I think I’ll respond after I think it through. Anyone that knows me, like really knows me, knows you do not want my immediate raw thought in my head text. I am not mean. Let’s just make that abundantly clear. I am very honest. My honesty boof has been compared to a 57.3% which I think is total bullshit. Sometimes people mistake my honesty for being mean or bitchy. Usually these are the people that can’t handle the truth. Live in some form of world where they see themselves as the victim. Or perfect. Or are in complete denial. Oh thank god my mother doesn’t read this. So, I take a second. Gather my thoughts. And then I usually get distracted by anything and everything. I’m talking a caterpillar, I’ve got the phone in camera mode and I’m now taking a cinematic video of it crawling across the patio. Now it will take me 5-7 days to respond to you.
Unless you make the random thought list. If you are on this list. It’s about 2 people deep. You will get random funny videos and my personal random facts/thoughts throughout your day. I just do. It’s probably super annoying but as I just said. I don’t really care all that much. I also think laughing is important and if it makes me laugh, I need to share it. Also the random fact sharing is educational. There’s gotta be at least one other weirdo that is fascinated by feet washing ashore in the Salish Sea. Orrrrrrr by weird sea creatures being discovered on the ocean floor. No??? Whatever. Anyway. Sorry to those of you I don’t text back for 5-7 business days. Also sorry to the ones on the random thought list. I get bored and think you are interesting, I dont think many people are interesting so take it at a compliment.. You all mean a lot to me and I’ll make more of an effort. all the love. ❤️
This is 40ish 