It’s the house kids flock to. You know the one. Opening the pantry door is like walking up aisle 16 at the grocery store. Shelves loaded with Nutella snack packs, fruit snacks, individual bags of Doritos and packages of Keebler cookies. It’s the house with a garage fridge loaded with sodas, Sunny D’s, and Capri Suns.

It’s “the Snack House.” If your house was the snack house, you probably had a bunch of friends, mainly because they were using you to get access to the snacks. Not hating, just the truth. Kids are drawn to the snack house. They can’t help it.

My house is not the snack house.

At what point, as a parent, do you throw in the towel and decide you need outside help? How do you decide that it’s gotten to the point that you aren’t equipped to deal with? I’m not asking for a friend. I’m asking for me.

If you’ve been following my blog, you know that my middle child, Scarlett, is challenging. A wonderful, sweet, caring, smart, imaginative, challenging child. She’s the one that keeps me on my toes. Always has, always will.

Lately though, I feel like I’m on my toes and I can’t balance. She’s been having a super hard time the last couple of months. I don’t know exactly what is causing it. But she has said repeatedly that she hates her life, that she is unhappy, and wishes she was dead.

Now I don’t know how much of this is her being dramatic vs how she really feels in her heart. She honestly doesn’t have a bad life! I swear. But, these are the things that have been bothering her…

Living in a community has its pros and cons. However, lately, I feel like the cons are winning and I would seriously consider hauling ass someplace else if our girls wouldn’t care.

Why am I wanting to leave? A few reasons. And, yes, I will detail them here. Enjoy!

First, we live in an HOA community… but the HOA enforces rules like grandparents do. Which is to say they don’t. And if they do, the rules they seem to care about are stupid ones. For example, we have received 2 notices so far about our garbage cans being left out one day after garbage day. One MF’ing day. Yet, the people across the street from us have been street parking since the dawn of time.

Being a teenager is hard. Along with all the responsibilities and expectations, you also have a raging set of hormones. Making your skin break out, making you cry because you can’t find your other shoe, making you feel like YOU basically have no control over YOU anymore.

I remember those days….long, long, long, long ago. Felt like nothing I did was right and my self esteem was the size of a gnat. It sucked. Now, looking back, I realize that my teenage years were some of the best years of my life. I did so much. I had so many friends. Remembering moments from that time, I feel like they were more from a movie and not my life. Those years were filled with so many memories I still think back on today.

So, it’s kinda funny seeing my oldest daughter, Gianna, entering her teenage years. She’s becoming a woman and it’s pretty cool… and scary, and weird, all at the same time.

My hands are purple and I don’t know how to get the color off. It’s all because I’m a sucker for guilt and Evie was primed and ready to pee on my counter.

I was standing in line the other day, waiting to go inside to watch Scarlett’s cheer showcase. We were outside and I had just eaten dinner about 30 minutes prior. Standing there, in the crowd, I realized … I had to fart.

So I did. Since having 3 kids, I’ve been pretty lax with my bodily functions. At this point in my life, what wants to come out, comes out. However, I didn’t expect it to be noticeable. Gauging the pressure in my…er, rear, I thought it would be relatively quiet and easy to cover the noise given the crowd.

Wrong. It made a sound. Not a loud, ripping sound or anything like that. But, a sound nonetheless. Did anyone hear? I casually glance back like the chicken in the picture above and from my peripheral vision, I think I caught the people behind me staring.