You could ….

Oh the things you could do, if you felt the way about me, that I feel about you.

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By Queenie

You could feel the way I feel,

You could hurt the way I hurt,

You could want the way crave,

You could need the way I need you,

You could love, the way that I love you

And even want all of the same things too.

You could wish the things I wish,

You could cry over someone, the way I cry over you-

You could want commitment the way I want it too,

You could do all of these things,

This I know is true –

But only if you were with someone new

Cause I know you’ll never feel the same about me, as I feel about you.

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You could

    The Softmore

    Part 1 – Cori – time frame – 2000’s

    It’s the year 2005 or 2006, the year you get your license. The month is ApriI. I think I was in 10th grade, driving a 1994 XL Fire Engine Red Chevy Blazer. I was not yet an experienced highway driver, so wherever I went, I went the back roads.

    On this particular day it didn’t matter. The place I was going was all back roads. There was one way into town and one way out, and this was it. A Long, winding, curvy, strip of what felt like forever. Beautiful mansion like houses lined the road, and the smell, the sticky smell of the salt water clung to the hairs inside of my nose the way you would picture molecules and cells sticking together.

    It was the same road I had traveled down many, many times throughout my youth with my parents to get to the Beach, but one of the first times I had driven it myself. And I wasn’t going to the Beach this time. I was going to a Women’s Health Clinic to be put on birth control, without my mother’s knowledge or consent. They had a little notebook, a journal, filled with “testimonials” from patients before us. Essentially, the ” Comment’s Section” of this particular Women’s health Clinic.

    I’d brought my friend Leena with me for support, more of a celebratory support. Little did I know- I was going to need more than that, and a lot of it.

    I peed in a little cup for what I believe now, was the first time I’d ever done so ( outside of when my mom would hold the cup for me at my annual physical with my pediatrician), sat back down in the waiting area with Leena, and began reading some journal entries.

    After about 45 minutes, and a lot of whispering stares and side eyed glares, a woman opened her door and called out my name, ” Cori? Come on in.”

    We spoke about the different types of birth control, my history ( which wasn’t much yet) and then she asked if I’d like for her to bring my support person in. That threw me way off, but I sort of chuckled it off and thought it’d give us a lot of laughing material for the ride home.

    She opened her office door and called out, ” Leena, could you please come in and take a seat with us?” . A knot began g r o w i n g inside of my belly. My nerves were starting to catch up to me.

    When my Best Friend entered the room, we locked eyes and nervously smiled at one another.

    “What is going on?” I ask the, (lets call her “Doctor”) Doctor.

    ” Unfortunately Cori*, we can not give you a prescription of Birth Control today, but we can offer support-” Said Doctor, uneasily.

    What?! What the hell do you mean??? What is wrong with me?? Is it an STD?! HERPES? HIV? AM I DYING?! – Were some of the first thoughts that went through my head, my best friend Leena, was thinking the same things. She was so afraid of what the next words would be, she visibly clenched her fists into the arms of the chair, on each side of her body.

    ” We can not give you a prescription for Birth Control today, because…. you are already Pregnant.”

    Explosives going in all corners of my brain.

    That’s. Not. Possible. ( not a statement taken lightly in such a situation).

    I couldn’t imagine being PREGNANT!? I had just turned 16 years old.

    NO!! This cannot be happening. I was t r y i n g to get AHEAD OF THIS!!

    The first audible words out of my mouth were, ” Okay, Well… Soo what can you guys do for this? What can we do about this? I need to fix this and fast, and again, w i t h o u t my mother finding out…”

    The only support offered to me by the lovely clinic, was a few brochures regarding adoption and teen pregnancy. They did not offer, provide, nor support a b o r t i o n.


    When I walked out of the clinic, I took what felt like the first breath I had taken since Leena sat down in Doctor’s office with me.

    My face stained in tears, I called my boyfriend Anthony.

    When he answered, he already knew something was not right. See, usually I’d only call him over the 2-way Radio. So when the phone rang and he saw my name flash across the screen, his stomach bubbled.

    On the ride home, I called my mom.

    She could hardly understand the words coming out of my mouth, but she got the idea. ” Drop Leena off, and head home, I’ll be right over.”

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    Cut to- It’s the second-to-maybe Third-to-Last Day of 10th Grade, June of 05/06, and I have an appointment scheduled for the following day. I’m sitting in Mrs. Lato’s Spanish class nauseous, a feeling I’d begun to get used to, and my teacher won’t let me go to the bathroom, a g a i n. I know my bathroom breaks were frequent, more frequent than normal- and they thought I was going to smoke cigarettes, ( something I did regularly in the school bathrooms). Over the last 3 months, my bathroom breaks had become even more frequent, and I was doing more than just s m o k i n g in the girls room.

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    Even when I did go in there to smoke, I would throw up. E v e r y. s i n g l e. t i m e. I was SO frustrated. I had been trying to keep this secret for months, as one pregnant 10th grade teenager would do. It wasn’t that I couldn’t take the secret any longer, it was that I had to throw up, and did NOT want to do so in front of a room full of Juniors and Seniors, most of whom I was n o t friendly with.

    I tried to cover all my bases. I asked if I could PLEASE run to the bathroom, THREE TIMES. In between my pleas, Mrs. Lato would throw in a wise remark. She thought it was funny. She wasn’t trying to be mean, no – she was just trying to get through her lesson. ” It’s the last week of school, cant you wait until the bell rings? Your not going to want to miss a thing in class today or tomorrow.”

    “I’m not going to be here tomorrow or the next day. So May I Please run to the bathroom? It’s s e r i o u s. It’s a M e d i c a l condition. It’s a g i r l problem.”

    Nothing. She ignored me each time.

    I rose from my chair and exited the class room. Fuming. Actually, f u m i n g. This was the first time I felt my whole body heat up the way it did in response to my anger. I felt my skin turn flush. My neck, covered in blotches of red… embarrassment? Fear? No, Anger. Anger that looked like a bad allergic reaction.

    I splashed my face with water, and looked at myself in the fun house like mirror that was mounted along the wall as you exited the bathroom. I wanted to wait for the bell to ring, but back then, the concept of time wasn’t what it is now. It lasted longer. One half hour felt more like One whole hour. Fifteen minutes was more like 45. So I waited for my face to cool down some, and I walked back to class.

    Looking down at my Toes

    Journey through the mind of our Mental Health Warrior’s and their Thoughts.

    The first thought in a series of Thoughts, from the minds of our Mental Health Warrior’s, made into Poems.

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    I spent half of my life wearing black on my toes and only black clothes -You’d have thought that maybe Death was a type of lifestyle, and one that I chose. With a ring in my nose I’d watch only Crime shows and listen to black crows. I’ve stuck straws up my nose and drank straight from the hose – and there was also a time I tried to make little girls’ bows, and design my own kinds of clothes – and although maybe nobody knows, My love, I tried to never oppose. I’ve lived where it snows and during a time where guys called ladies hos- and day after day, we continued to live, all while the things we love decompose. In the ground we are planted, and even still, nothing grows. Why couldn’t we grow the same way as a Rose? And Why when we’re pregnant, do they say our skin glows? The Baby is taking everything, except for your troubles and woes. So really, Truly, the answers nobody even knows. But we still continue on, alongside our friends and even our foes. Over and over, it’s just how it goes – and now my friends, this thought I will close. At the end of the day, some people think, ” This shit Really Blows”.

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    The Truth, Mom

    Blogger / Mental Health Advocate

    Send me your thoughts, stories, poems & experiences. Let’s Travel the Road of Mental Health Healing Together.

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    Leave a Reply

    New Old Mom

    momet – a NONET by a mom

    abandoned ancient antique architecture

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    I still stand by all the things I’ve said,

    When I started, I was new too.

    Over time how far we’ve come,

    many things I felt wrong

    still remaining strong

    not the same song

    I’ve been long,

    old mom,

    gone.

    NONET: 
         A Nonet is a 9-lined-Poem - A Poem with 9 lines.
    Nonet Form :  Think about it this way;
    
    9.
    8.
    7.
    6.
    5.
    4.
    3.
    2.
    1.
     This way, one can think, "each line has that many syllables." So line 9 has 9 syllables, line 8 has 8, line 7 has 7, line 6 has 6, line 5 has 5, line 4 has 4, line 3 has 3, line 2 has 2 & line 1 ends the nonet with 1 syllable.
    
     Nonet's can be an exciting way to spicen up your writing. Not only does writing this way give readers something intriguing and unique to interpert, but it also puts said writer in a complete different thinking space than the norm. It can help aleviate those mundane thoughts that one just can't put into the words, just by taking you away from them, even if only for a few moments. although it Definitely takes me more than a few moments to write a nonet.
       Writing in Nonet form takes the writer out of ordinary every day thoughts, and even if it doesn't do all that, it gives every day, ordinary thoughts going onto page.. more OOMPH!! An old, maybe sometimes forgotten, yet still so COOL OOMPH!!
     Here's an example of a thought turning into a quick little Nonet, and about how much time it took to think up.
    (9:48am)  first thought-  I want to write about my relationship. 
    too many syllables so let's make it the title ;] 
    I want to write abo-ut my old-est.   
    the first one to call me their mom
    we may not al-ways be close
    but my girl knows I'm here 
    for her, for-ev-er
    a promise sworn.
    i got you
    my love
    True.   (10:09am) 
    
    
    
    
    

    Rating

    Mom’s Valentine’s Day 2022..

    As I sit here threading gold braided twine through each and every one of The Who knows how many , Valentine’s Day Bookmarks I hurried and began to make at around 6pm… because that’s who I am- I’m that mom- I’m last minute mom, last minute woman . I’m questioning my sanity.

    How many of these bookmarks will actually be used??

    How many of those time eating bookmarks are gonna be in recycling bins and trash barrels around my town tomorrow??

    As you can see, I’ve been busy.

    This gives me perspective to share, a different perspective… multiple perspectives.

    I’m that mom that carelessly, mindlessly , tosses the 3-4 bags/boxes filled with valentines away each year. Maybe not that day, that month, or even that year…. But eventually, they end up in a land fill from an annual purge.

    I am that mom.

    I am also the mom scrambling last minute to come up with simple ideas to incorporate into Valentine’s for four different age groups/ four different classes, without candy or snacks / food of any sort.

    I’ve got to come up with a valentine, omit the candy hearts. Maybe I don’t have to come up with it, but I do have to follow through with the creating process.

    I am the mom who stayed up all night finishing , cutting, tying, d.i.y-ing, cricut-ing .. to make sure each of my children had a bag of unique valentines to pass out to their class. ( Luckily daycare allows certain snacks 🙏🏻🤫🥳)

    So tomorrow, Today, if we don’t have a snow day – when our kids run into the house from school, dump their backpacks on the ground, reach for their bag ( or box) filled with a large variety of valentines from each and every one of their classmates – I’m going to remind myself to be more present.

    To stop and enjoy going through them with each of my children. Be equally excited.

    Not that I’m usually not that way anyways / just sometimes need to stop and remind myself to slow down.

    Listen , whether the kids valentines are store bought or hand made, they are usually equally thought out – it’s not something that needs too much effort on any end . Tonight I struggled with computer updates, and software issues , my laptop kept freezing right before go time – my cricut kept eating and tearing the bookmarks right at the very last steps…..

    I just wanted to make sure they had something –

    And now they do. And I’m exhausted and have my full body bone scan at 930 am today… but I chose to get those valentines done, and I’m not even a little bit mad or upset over it- I’m pumped I got it done.

    I’m this mom, I’m that mom, I’m Mom, and they didn’t hand me an instruction manual after any of my births.

    Happy Valentine’s Day y’all 😘😍❤️😘

    xoxo. Tmom

    There’s a little mom truth for today – food for thought .

    an irreplaceable feeling

    It’s something about our touch.. our sounds, our stillness & sense …

    My children have all had a period of time where they slept next to me, and they had to be touching me. In some way or another; They could be on the other side of the bed, yet their tiny foot/feet were making contact with me.

    My littles one moves around in her sleep when she feels or hears me near & doesn’t stop moving til she’s making contact with me.

    My heart beat .

    This must be why they said skin to skin…

    These babies grew inside of us. You literally cannot get any closer to us, to our hearts, than the children you birthed. Not taking away from anyone else in any way – just giving my perspective.

    They want to hear our heart beating, feel our hearts beating. There’s a comfort in that, that some just cannot go without.

    To me, it’s important.

    To me, I have to cherish it.

    It won’t be this way forever – I keep reminding myself this. I keep reminding patI keep saying it outloud but I still have to remind myself,, I still forget.

    These babies aren’t babies forever, so I believe in closeness. I believe in cuddling, hugs, goodnight kisses, bed sharing & I believe in giving into it.

    Maybe it can be a lot … but it isn’t forever.

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    The kids double Halloween Birthday Party

    I did it! It’s over … we got through it – I survived the panic

    Is it Safe?

    Everyone wants to know, is it safe?

    Vaccines, shots, medicines, pills, etc.

    Everyone wants to know. So how come when an addict asks, is it safe, do non-addicts question their sensibility? Because addicts, who have been addicted to street drugs were willing to, not only administer an ” I.V”, on their own, but an I.V filled with God knows what!!?

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    I can get with that, but I can also get with this.

    Our government is not trusted by MANY, MANY people. The reason we are/ were, ever addicted in the first place, in one way or another, is related to the government. The government runs this country. Fuck a simulation, that isn’t what this is! There are no pimpley nerds sitting behind V-R goggles eating a slice of burnt pizza dripping greese all over their laptop while they control our simulated world ( as the theory is going) – No. They are in suits and ties up in pent houses, on wall street, on our T.V screens, in OUR white house, speaking publicly, telling us what to do, and when to do it. They are all around us, Running our world.

    They gave us the medical drugs. They did nothing about the street drugs. It is, was, will always be, up to us.

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    So is it safe? Is birth control safe? Is Narcan safe? Is Prozac, adderall, or Naltrexone safe? What about the flu shot? The COVID-19 vaccine?? The MMRA baby shots? Zoloft? Zofran?? We do not know.

    Question; Is it safe to eat shellfish during pregnancy? – This right here is solely an example of my point- the answer may sound something along the lines of this next part… “Just because I spent 10 years booting heroin into my veins does not mean I do not care. It does not mean I want to live a risky, unethical lifestyle. It does not mean I am no longer cautious. I still ask. I want to be informed. I was probably one of the most well-informed junkies back in the day.” – Say what you will.

    Is heroine safe? No. That answer is simple. No, it was/is not safe, nor sanitary, for us to administer an I.V to ourselves, or others, in the Handicapped bathroom stall at our local Mcdonald’s. We know all of this. This is common sense. We did what we were always told not to do. We did what we saw, what we were shown. What we were around. What we thought felt good. We did it because it did feel good.

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    Where did we all end up???

    We ended up sick. Sick, confused, and in a type of pain that we did not yet understand.

    Then we ended up waltzing into courthouses, these places we had never been, we walked through crowded rooms filled with judging eyes, down dark halls, and we even learned of outback basement EXIT doors that we had not known existed. “So that’s where the prisoners go”. We answered to complete strangers, people who we had never met, we answered to men and women in long black gowns who we quickly learned we were not allowed to talk to.

    Then we went to hospitals. Through Emergency Room doors. Some of us got a ride in, while others desperately crawled. We were watched by more strangers, for 12 hours at a time. Laid up in our hospital beds, while our entire bodies were dying.

    You sent us out with little brown paper lunch bags filled to the top with what you called comfort. You said see you in 2 weeks, be sure to attend all of our meets!

    For me, that was it, I was gonna quit! We went home on our missions, took all the pills that you called comfort, 3xs a day, and we I felt the best feeling I we had ever felt. Except… wait, feeling? What do I feel?? – I woke up and had just been dead. – The feeling was the addicts little baby, jumping on her head –

    Then some of us walked crawled into Detoxes, while others were literally dragged, sick surrounded by sick. We could never even remember the first few days. We had Detoxes stuffed with some kind of hope, hope we gave to one another. Hope that started with, well, since your here too I guess it isn’t that bad.. and ended with I’m clean and sober now can I have a job? I want to fix people like me… I’m cured! – — We were addictions Science experiments. We were Addictions Frog dissection. We did day programs, we went inpatient, we did everything we could think of to fix ourselves.

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    Instead of applying to colleges or for jobs, we applied for halfway and Sober houses. We waited on lists, and even then we still had hope. List’s is that all we are to you?? Names on a list? Nothing more.

    We heard the messages, we got the stories, we took it all in over, and over and over again. We knew the phrases and sayings off the top of our heads, we would even say them to our friends.

    But it wasn’t over yet right? They said that relapsing is okay, that relapse is a part of our recovery.

    So we did just that.

    Then we walked were dragged back through those courtrooms, our names on more lists filled with names. Except for this time we were escorted in through that back, basement door. Held in those cold, dry, smelly spaces, awaiting our time to be judged. We were hauled into courtrooms filled with so many familiar and unfamiliar faces.

    Then, You took our kids away. Our families were broken apart, split into pieces. Broken.

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    Broken, some of us fought.

    You gave us tasks that were damned near impossible. You wanted us to work full or part time, do the 12 steps, go to 4-5 NA or AA meetings a week, while taking anger management classes, parenting classes, and doing IOP ( intensive outpatint programs) 3 days a week!! You wanted us to have no contact with the people who had our kids, even if it was our mothers and fathers. You made us drop everything we were doing at any time, to have us come pee in a cup for you. You wanted us to be stable, with homes,and jobs and certificates, going to meetings, whilst practicing the 12 steps.

    We were like monkeys in a cage. Like otters at the zoo. You told us what to do how to do it where to do it and when to do it without caring about us. About what we went through. You wanted us to do the impossible.

    You dragged us through family courts, through criminal courts, and civil courts, all to make us pay. Justice. Justice?

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    We went to Prisons, institutions, jails. ( familiar context?) We met many, many, faces and crimes we would never have thought. We saw things we had only seen in movies and on TV, never did we think we would see some of the things.

    Then some of us got clean. Some of us are here. Some of us did the impossible and then some. Some of us are here, but we will never be OK.

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    Some of us did not make it that far. Some of us had to say goodbye to each other, goodbye to the Earth, goodbye forever to our future. Some of us are no longer here.

    More of us than not, are no longer on this plane.

    We are in Jails. We are In Prisons, we are in Institutions, and we are dead. We are here too. We are here, and we’ve gone above and beyond proving ourselves capable. Proving ourselves to you. Proving that we deserve a say, We deserve the right to not be judged, an to be able to ask is it safe.

    Because the last time we thought it was safe, when you wrote us those scripts for our broken bones, sports injuries, sprains, aches, etc – we believed you. And look where it got us??

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    Y’all I don’t do political conversations or usually even anything close to a post like this…. I’m just feeling.

    TODAY I’m Feeling stuck. Feeling disconnected. I don’t feel like I’m heading in any particular direction, good or bad. Just stuck. Still.

    I’m unsure. I’m pissed. I don’t know. But I do have stuff I want to say. There is so much unsaid I need to say.

    Ever craved to do something big? I say crave, because desire isn’t even a strong enough description of the feeling. You want it so bad , to do it so bad, yet your not even sure what it would be.

    Mamas back to work 🙌🏻

    Ever hear of Home-a-Glow? It’s comparable to and Uber, or a Lyft type website, except it’s for house cleaners!! pretty cool right? Need your house cleaned but don’t have the time/motivation to do so? I GOTCHUU! Log onto http://www.homeaglow.com, set up your preferences & any personal requests, save it, post it & BAM! Your on the market for a certified house cleaner! One will just have to log into their account, go through any and all job requests that match their criteria ( ex. Area they service, hours they can work, etc), and CLAIM the job(s) they want to work! Easy enough right?

    It is an interesting way to meet new people, learn new things & even maybe make a few new friends/connections along the way!!

    So I haven’t posted much on here lately, as that has taken up a lot of my “spare” time, but I hope it just may help to clear my writers block!! 😊🤞🏻✌🏻

    Traditional, Magical, Mythical, lies.

    Part 1 in the white lie series more COMING SOON!

    How young is too little to understand? How old is old enough to know/ understand?

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    I have 4 kids now, and I got rules of my own. I never ever wanted to lie to my children.

    I recently heard read something on another blog that really got me thinking.. it’s different. I guess this specific person, a fellow blogger of mine, believed, believes, and stated, “Why start off life being lied to?” In regards to, E.B, S.C, T.Fairy ( I think you get what/ WHO I mean…)

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    There are many contradicting beliefs, perspectives, and just… ways of life, behind those little “white lies” we start off life with. At the same time though, if you did decide that you were not going to tell your child/ren these tales, or that you’re absolutely not going to bring a child into this world, and bring him or her up on these traditional, little “white lies”, then you won’t ever,/ don’t, get to enjoy these magical holiday experiences alongside your growing child. Where is the magic in that? Don’t you think if, say 2 out of 10 parents never ever celebrated those magical holiday beliefs from day 1, that once those children go to school, they could potentially ruin it for all the other believers, the ones who see the magic still? The ones who saw the magic all along?

    It’s all in tradition. Maybe gifts for every single tradition, or rather, every single Holiday, is a little bit much, a little excessive, at least I think so, especially with this generation. Maybe we , the adults, the parents, take it to far, maybe we let them believe it for too long?

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    The constant changing and upgrading gadgets, expensive trinkets, cellphones, Ipads, tablets, Hover Boards, XBOX, PS1,2,3,4 etc – $60 limited supply of HATCHIMALS, ( aka my generation’s take on FURBY’S ) .

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    This generation, my eldest daughter’s generation, Generation Z is what we’re calling them, may just be the last generation of long-term believers. This generation, or generation Alpha, just may be the last generation of people really believing in the magic of the holidays. I mean, think about it… these kids are constantly on electronics. I don’t even know how my kids believed for so long with all the internet access they’ve got, I really don’t!

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    They’ve got TikTOK, Streaming TV series, facebook, snapchat, YOUTUBE, Fortnite, ROBLOX, chrome, FIREFOX, safari, ipads, cellphones… omg the list goes on and on and on…. nonetheless, with all that they can see and get to with just 1 click of a tiny button, right in their small hands… I just don’t see how we will have believers for much longer.

    After coming across a fellow bloggers post, I went into a sort of rabbit hole into the world of traditional holiday magic, beliefs, non-believers – etc. I was very surprised to find such a large number of parents and children, who had never believed in, or celebrated, those ” magical” people – and they never put it on their children either.

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    It’s touchy. Again, what about the other kids in school?? You just don’t know. What about the kids that don’t believe or celebrate? Early on in their school career, they are going to wonder why they didn’t get the cool new XBOX under the tree, or why their mom didn’t set up a trap to catch a tiny little green mythical man.

    Oh, speaking of that – that is new to me. In my childhood, I had NEVER set up a trap to catch a leprechaun!? Shit that ishh is KIDNAPPING! What are we teaching these kids?! lol I have to laugh.

    However, I do and always have, left out a little jelly bean or chocolate poop trail,following behind a foot-shaped powder-made bunny hop trail every Easter?! This is where I’m brought back to the whole gift part of the tradition, and again feeling uneasy.

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    Another new trend I missed the memo on, apparently, the leprechaun brings gifts too now?! Shhhheeeesh!!! As a matter of fact, in the last 2 years, my children have come home from school on or around that day, asking why we didn’t set up a trap and why the leprechaun didn’t leave them any gifts or candy baskets?!? HUH?!

    Twilight zone over here. Maybe it’s just me. Is it just me? What do you think about this?? What do you think about our mythical, magical creatures that we put forth as gift bearers every holiday, to take any or all credit for the gifts we hard-working parents worked hard for? Let me know in the comments!! Maybe ill be back after more delving and rabbit hole jumping 🙂

    Celeste M.
    Celeste M.

    Celeste is a stay-at-home mother of 4 children from Boston, Massachusetts. She has 3 girls, 1 boy, and always has a house full of children! Her significant other of 11 years has consistently worked full time throughout their relationship, allowing Celeste to stay home and raise the children. She loves working with her cricut, sublimating tumblers, t-shirts, and anything else she can find sublimatable!! She is SUPER crafty, and has recently begun to somewhat “master” the skill of making glitter/epoxy tumblers! She began writing a blog in 2010 when she had hit a rough patch and continued to write a post every so often throughout the years. She told her story as it was when it was. Last year she picked back up on blogging and is trying to get out there with her thoughts, and her story. It needs to be told.

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