There I was, wrangling a dog behaving like he’d railed Scarface’s supply of cocaine and cleaning up 800 fruit snack wrappers, when a guy named Nick asked the question I haven’t heard in decades: ‘Are you single?’ Turns out, leaving my wedding ring at home was a homing device for awkwardness. It made me realize: after 30 years with Vince, I’m officially retired from the dating game. If I ever find myself solo, I’m just keeping a spare ring in my wallet to avoid being picked up in places that smell like expressed anal glands
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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From balayage hair to Delta Nu energy, Kristina shares a hilarious car ride conversation with her 14-year-old about the “basic” life and visualizing a rich future.
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Birthdays at our house usually start with 68 balloons and a pancake shaped like a number. But when Scarlett turned 14, the Hallmark record screeched to a halt. Within thirty minutes, we went from sweet hand-holding to an oral sex comment from her sister that had us all questioning our life choices. It was a spiral of baby-making music, preschooler ‘bump and grind’ moves, and R-rated horror films. Parenting teenagers is a wild ride, and sometimes you just have to lean into the inappropriateness and wait for the Hallmark moment to come back around.
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Potty training seems like the worst idea when you place that diaper less butt into a car seat and buckle up. Driving down the highway and hearing “poopy” from the backseat is terrifying. Hauling ass (literally) to the next rest stop or off ramp so you can find a restroom before your commando kid loses control. Rushing to the toilet like the McCallister’s running through the airport in Home Alone, stressed you’re going to be pulling down a fully loaded pair of underpants if you don’t make it to the bathroom in time.
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A reminder that sometimes with bedwetting kdis, all you can do is laugh (after you change the sheets).
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Reflecting on how the feminist movement, while empowering in many ways, also made it harder for women who didn’t want to “have it all.” What about the moms who just want to be moms?
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
