You shouldn’t know where someone is 24/7—that’s borderline restraining-order energy. I’m pitching a new reality show: no technology, no preplanned dates, just straight notes mailed through the USPS. Because there’s something about a tear-stained doodle in the margins that a text just can’t touch.
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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What is it about some older women that compels them into sly mom shaming? I recently received the full-force blast of granny passive aggression. From my dog in the car to my daughter’s hair, it was a masterclass in ‘dick’ behavior disguised as conversation.
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Decorating isn’t exactly my spiritual gift, especially when my kids treat the living room like a gymnasium. After two ceramic lamps met a slow-motion death, I had to decide: do I want a museum or a home where my kids feel free to be themselves? Here’s why my parenting style is choosing memories over mood lighting.
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I used to think the teenage ’emotional rollercoaster’ was an exaggeration—until I lived it. From crying in my minivan after HOCO pictures to unexpected office snuggles, this is the reality of raising a teenage girl. It’s a wild ride of rejection, comparison, and deep love.
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Boxes weren’t just cardboard cubes waiting to be broken down for recycling. They were potential toys waiting for a bit of imagination, crayons, and scissors.
I think a lot of kids did this in the 20th century. Not just poor kids like me, fishing refrigerator boxes out of the community garbage pile to turn into a one-bedroom apartment. Rich kids too—just to piss off their parents by enjoying the brown box more than the present itself.
At my house, though, the cooler box sat there for two days, ignored and unused.
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Being basically responsible for 6 people’s schedules means I’m guaranteed to mess things up now and then.
Law of averages says I screw up timing or days at least five times a year. My family does get irritated at me, but this is the one area in my life where I honestly DGAF.
Listen, if you all had to keep track of all the crap my brain has to keep track of, you’d fail now and again too. I refuse to let guilt seep into this particular corner of my life. When you overload the system, sometimes you’re gonna get a mistake.
LISTEN TO RAISING THE CURTINS
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.
SUBSCRIBE & LISTEN HERE
