Adult Birthdays

Adult birthdays are just days. Days that remind you that you once where a child and you knew nothing of the weight of the world and just knew of the solar system. Days where you wondered “what’s for dinner?”, then you just ate. Days where cake had no calories and you didn’t know how much wine was too much for a day after head throb.

Birthdays are just days we feel all the feels for all the reasons while at the same time burying all the feels until the day is over and you can feel “I made it”.

Happy adult birthday.

Enjoy that cake.


It’s 9:30 PM on a Sunday.

My kids are in bed and I am standing at the far window across the room looking around wondering if I should run around and clean up the house just in case.

Should I grab some trash bags and throw out all the miscellaneous things that we tend to think we need in life?

If I died tonight (hopefully someone would know to check in on me and get the kids), they would walk in and they would see my dog probably frantic by the door but the locked from the rest of of the house by a window screen.

The kitchen would have pasta sauce on it- amazingly I made three meals today. The couch cushions are in disarray, some on the floor from the toddler sporadically throwing them off, the kids table has crumbs all over it just because ‘why wipe it off if I can do it in the morning after breakfast?’

Walk up the stairs and there’s laundry literally on the stairs, I don’t really know if it’s clean or dirty so I just left it there and I will decide tomorrow. The kids room has clean laundry piled high on the bed.

There’s an old toilet seat sitting outside the bathroom door because it took me three hours with a fussy baby to put a new toilet seat on the second floor bathroom toilet. There are matchbox cars, books, laundry mats sitting right outside the laundry basket in the stairway.

Down the hall is the guestroom where somehow I have also made it a place where the baby naps during the day. There’s a bag of diapers opened on the guest bed along with my mom’s clothes that she left here that I’m going to put away. There’s a clean sheet then I’m going to put on the pack and play mattress on the floor. There’s a pacifier in the pack and play and maybe some socks that the baby kicked off.

Our passports are on the file cabinet at the end of the hallway right in front of the printer. I passed them maybe 40 times today and I just haven’t gotten around to putting them back in the file cabinet. I had the thought “what if I need to flee the country really quick? I need to keep them in a place where I can grab them”. Yes… I actually thought that for what seems to be no reason at all.

At the stairs in the master bedroom we have the nicest furniture. It’s covered with laundry, toys, the bed wasn’t made all day, my water bladder is hanging off my side of the bed along with all the shit on my nightstand… My breast pump and all of its parts, nasal spray and a snot sucker for my baby, A book and a cup of tea. My nightstand looks like I am not expecting anyone to look at it anytime soon.

My bathroom has three different types of toothpaste on it, more breast pump parts, a teapot, random essential oil’s and vitamins, candles, and bra inserts (the bra itself is hanging on the door knob).

Pretty sure there’s a day worth of toddler urine in the toilet…

The baby monitor nearby, and mirror I haven’t hung up yet, and a bathtub full of toys. Not to mention if you opened any drawers what you might think of me. I have all the tools to be organized and I always have been until now.

Instead of wrapping all of this up today like someone with OCD or Martha Stewart definitely would, I decided to actually watch a movie. It took me all day to watch it because I could only sit down to watch it for maybe 15 to 20 minutes at a time but I was determined to get through the whole thing.

And instead of doing anything about everything I just wrote I decided to write about it instead to try to break this cycle of my creative silence.

So if I die tonight, God bless the sucker who has to clean up my mess. (I rewrote this last line 3 times. The first time it was way more crude but just in case it someone I actually really love it would be a bummer that I actually called them that and I wasn’t alive to tell them it was a joke).

Not sure why am really feeling this tonight. But it got me to write it down.

Here’s to many more days alive and to many more blog posts that are much more interesting!

Goodnight messy house, goodnight dog, goodnight kids, goodnight moon, goodnight laundry all over.

I read a book.

One year later, I’m finishing a book. I’ve watched many Netflix episodes. I have had no time for reading. But to be honest, I haven’t really. Every book I’ve read has been for a much younger reader. And I’m usually doing voices. But people… If you haven’t read The Red Tent by Anita Diamant, DO IT. Men and women. It was actually my brother in laws brother in law who told me about it years ago. And since a cute man told me I needed to read a book the title stuck in my mind. When a friend gave it to me to borrow a year ago, I was thrilled. I had no idea having a baby then toddler would push me off the edge of society and make me illiterate. I feel accomplished and wonderful. Also, the last half, couldn’t put it down y’all.  


The sensitive, wonderful, traumatic, loving and “what the hell is going on?” time when your partner works as a Mariner. 

A post of this subject could go on and on, it could have a few different tones, and it could possibly cause distress in my marriage if I’m not careful. But we are 4 days into him getting home after 3 months, I’m sitting here with my coffee, exhausted by the night, watching my toddler re discover all his toys for the day and bring me books to read him, and my husband is treating our home like his ship. 

(I will bring light humor to this subject today, as even though it’s hard, a bit frustrating, and takes a couple weeks to adjust, it’s who we are and we have been doing it for 10 years).

The vaccume is going, not just half ass, the extension tube is out and if it could scrub our already pretty clean floor, that’s what it’s doing right now. Laundry piles are being made right in front of me, washer and dryer are now running, the piles staring at me as to say “good early morning to you friend, your day is already drawn out for you” 

My husband is a big music person.Not to say I don’t like music, but he listens to music continueously and if he’s not listening to music he’s watching a video or playing a game with music. I like moments of silence and waking up in the world at a somewhat of a peaceful pace. 

That being said yes, during all this he music is going. Upbeat energetic get you moving music. He’s dusting (guess I missed a spot), dishes are being scrubbed with a vengeance, toys are being picked up(again), then all of the sudden he stops. He sits down with coffee and his iPad and will be here until 1pm until he decides he needs to get up and run around again. “Where is this? What happened to that? Why is the cheese grater in this cabinet? Do we have any sponges? Why don’t we have windex? Why don’t we have any snacks?” Guess I’ll go to the store and reorganize everything today. And get to the piles of course. 

It’s not that I’m not greatful for him helping. I know a lot of women would say their partners don’t even touch the vaccume. But right when you wake up? The adjustment from ship to home time is entertaining to say the least. This will go on for a couple weeks and then change. 

Now for sex. 

You would think after 3 months of being away there would be no issue. But as a woman taking care of a 16 month old alone day in and day out (thank god for family) and being the communicator that I am and also need… I don’t get that support and acknowledgement for 3 months and then all the sudden it’s hitting me with a globe and knocking me into another world overnight. I feel like yes, I can have sex right away of course. But then after that I need to be dated again. Who are we? People change in 3 months but sometimes after you have been together with someone for so long it seems the expectation is that you never change. Sex is just sex until the time is taken to be made into love again. I wish I knew other people in this situation so we could laugh about it together. 

It’s now 930am. It’s late. I will drink another cup of coffee but will contemplate cheesecake and scotch. 

Talking to Strangers

I recently flew out to the Northwest from Baltimore with my 6 month old alone. That was interesting. Crazy is what it was, no wonder people give up and stay home. That being said I would rather go crazy traveling then go crazy sitting at home.

Flying, you know the drill, check in through your phone, use your phone to navigate to the airport, check the time on your phone, update your status about going somewhere with a picture of yourself and your suitcase and feet together, get through security, check the time again, grab a coffee or sit at a bar scrolling through your phone not paying attention to anyone around you, but if you did they would all be doing the same thing.

Oh wait there is more- stand in line to board the plane with phone in hand looking at it every 5 seconds trying to find something to do until you get on the plane and up in the air until the flight attendants say you can use your electronics again. And at that point you plug into your music, movie, or work like you aren’t going to waste any time flying-you are going to stay connected…or as some people call it “plugged in”.

Well I had full intention of doing just that if my child magically fell asleep and I somehow managed to pull my computer out of my giant carry on with one hand. Thankfully I didn’t have to. While everyone was avoiding sitting next to me in fear my child was going to scream the whole time, I worried about the last person who got on the (stuffed to the gills) plane who would have to sit by us. I was pleasantly surprised when a man sat next to us and said “Ill sit next to the baby, I have 2 kids and I’m not scared!” Thank god.

Right away he started talking. The conversation started off about recent unfortunate events in Baltimore. It got deep (for a stranger on a plane conversation) going into the topic of racism, violence, equal opportunity, and rights. He had dark skin and was from New York. He grew up in the projects and once he had kids he took a second and third job and moved to Florida. He didn’t want his kids to grow up in the city and projects like he did. We talked about marriage, how it was hard work and after kids how it gets rough and you start to forget about each other and ways you can bring it back. We shared a few secrets that we both had not told anyone. I told him he was a stranger so what the hell. This went on, constant conversation for 5 hours. I felt rejuvenated. I can honestly say I haven’t talked like that in years. Of course I have had conversations, meaningful ones at that, but not like this. It was raw and honest. It was a fully present, no distractions, no worry about somewhere else to be or what time it was or even what other people thought about us. We were talking on a quiet, packed plane with everyone around us on their devices with headphones in. Im sure people heard us but when we were talking those people faded away and I didn’t even notice them.

When we landed he told me thank you for talking to him. He apologized and said he hoped he didn’t talk to much or share too much of his life story. I felt nothing but gratitude towards him for choosing to sit next to me and engage in real conversation. I told him I missed that about airplanes and how I use to do that often until the iPhone came out. I thanked him.

I started to remember all the people I have met on planes and other public transportation. Wonderful, strange,boring, funny, drunk, smart, ambitious, giving.. are all words to describe different people I specifically remember. It has been way too long since I have really engaged with any of these people and to think that they are always all around me makes me sad.

From now on, I will engage. I will open myself up and create the opportunity to talk to people and get to know them as they are in that moment in time we are together.

Thank you man on the plane from NY who now lives in Fort Lauderdale, FL. I appreciate you.

Going for it. Write. Anything. Please. There may be a few swear words in here, because well, no one can hear me.

Holy shit my baby is 6 months tomorrow! I seriously had this vision when he was just weeks old, nursing him continously on the couch watching Netflix and having my husband cook for me, that I needed to start teaching him things or I was going to look down one day and he would be a year old. Well he is halfway there and my God he has taught himself stuff. Not only that he has taught ME stuff.

I decided that it was time for me to start reading…because well Netflix has run out of shows to watch and I feel like I’m just molding myself into this parenting thing day by day and am afraid I will become everything I said I wouldn’t. I already have bought him colorful plastic things to play with. Rule #1, broken. So, reading… I went to the book store and stood in front of the “Parenting” section sipping my coffee and looking hip while my babe slept. So many choices. I became nauseous. Whatever happened to the good old fashion ways of raising a child? There is a fucking name for EVERYTHING! I finally found a book that seemed easy sounding enough. “Baby Knows Best” by Deborah Carlisle Solomon. Thank God someone has finally caught my attention. Let your baby tell you where when and what in a calm and confident way? Yes please. Don’t have to be home every night by 6 because your baby has to sleep? Yes please. Not to mention forcing your child to do things because you think you are the more intelligent one. Let me tell you we are all stupid. Watch “Baby Geniuses” you will understand.

Let me explain my theory. When Noah was 4 months old he had already traveled 16,000 miles. He had a passport. He flew across country at 2 weeks old and went to Ireland and Rome. He did long car trips, met people, and saw the world literally the way it should be seen. Experienced. He slept when he wanted, ate all the fucking time (I nursed him while hiking, shopping, walking around Rome, I even pumped milk like a human cow while driving down the interstate. We will not be stopped. He will know all kinds of different people and experience places and things until we set him free when he is 18- or whenever he decides to set himself free. So long story short I  found a book that basically goes along with everything I have been doing. Perfect. I don’t have to change. Sleep schedule? Fuck that. Sleep when you want wherever we are, whatever we are doing. It works people! I am now declaring that I am letting my baby be a human being and tell me what he needs and allowing myself to guide him the the right direction. If it doesn’t work? Hell, its my first kid. The first one is always the trial run. I was!