I am wrapping up a blog post right now that talks about the status of mine and Vince‘s sex life, post-vasectomy. You know, typical things people share online to family and strangers alike. Anyways, as I was writing it, I had the thought in the back of my mind that my kids and some of their friends might read it. Of course, this wouldn’t be the first TMI post I’ve shared. See here. But when I wrote about our sex life back then, I didn’t really think my kids would be reading it until they were older. Like 20s. However, I’ve learned that they do read what I write. Not all of it and not right away, but it happens.
Welcome to my own source of personal therapy.
This blog is an outlet for the inner workings of my mind, but is also a story of how you can make anything out of your life regardless of your upbringing or circumstances. You have to persevere and want more.
I made this life I have today, with a loving and ridiculous family who makes every trip around the sun an interesting one. With each step taking me closer to the type of success I dream about. I shouldn’t have what I have, but I do because I wasn’t willing to take less.
My blog is to share some of how I got here and how I keep going places. It’s a place to share struggles and realness. A place to share the absurdity that is being a mom.
Sometimes I overshare in my posts. I curse and give gory details about vaginas and grossness that comes with men and raising kids. But I also talk about spirituality, dealing with your babies not being babies anymore.
In here, I talk about what real life really is.
I’m not writing this blog, Raising the Curtins, to be popular or make boatloads of cash. That would be wonderful, but this blog has other purposes. To give me therapy so I stay somewhat sane, to leave a digital legacy for my children, and to share what’s real in life so others feel a connection through real life, not filters.
Kristina
Mom
Vince
#girldad
Gianna
The Best Accident
Scarlett
Tester of Limits
Evangeline
Boss Baby
Marina
Last Nugget
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I don’t see why there was such a big backlash against the song “Baby It’s Cold Outside.” How stations banned the song from the radio because a few people complained that it was promoting date rape. The thing with songs, like any art form, is that they are open for interpretation. And those interpretations are usually based on a person’s experience. When I hear the song, I just think she’s arguing with him, but that chick really doesn’t want to leave. She’s making him work for it and he’s being a stud by warming up her icy hands and complimenting her lips.
Hell, I wouldn’t want to leave. I’d put up with a lot to stay warm.
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I go back to work in less than a month. This thought is somewhat frightening to me. Thank all of them – Buddha, Jesus, the Great Mother, the Positive Energy Source, etc – that I work from home. I feel so intensely for those mommas that have to leave their babies. Yes, the break is nice. The feeling that you are part human, not 100% mom, has to be luxurious.
But you leave your baby – most often with a stranger – and that pulls at my heart too much to even contemplate day care or a nanny right now.
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The last nugget. The one to complete our family. Marina Hays (middle name in honor of my aunt who was like my mom) has been both the easiest child and …
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Today, I thought I knew how my morning was going to go. I would drop Scar off at school. Then, with Evie in tow, take Marina to her chiropractor and …
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Yesterday, I had quite possibly the worst pediatrician appointment I’ve ever experienced. If you follow along on my family’s journey, you’ll know that Marina is having some issues the past …
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If you love sarcasm, unfiltered motherhood stories, and the occasional chaos of my life (think: a mind that never stops over-analyzing everything. single. thing., parenting 4 daughters whose age ranges are ridiculous, and being married to an asshole)…you’re in luck.
Whether you're in the carline, folding laundry, or taking an extra long time on the toilet, throw on my audio files and pretend we're having a large glass of wine together and getting real. Because sometimes, you just need a voice in your ear telling you all the crazy shit about a middle aged woman and her family.
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