We Don’t Do Quiet in This House (And That’s Okay)

Happy Friday Everyone. Welcome to the latest installment of Mom Mode: Engaged. How was our week? Did we make it through relatively unscathed? How are we currently coping with all the new changes popping up like a really bad game of Wack a mole? I don’t know about y’all but I’m holding on like a hat in a windstorm… Barely.

Let me paint you a picture of how my last 48 hours have gone shall we. Started out with first my male cat escaping the confines of his condo and running outside. Which resulted in hubby finding him when he got home and bringing him back in. I don’t know what happened in the three hours he wasn’t in the house, but Nicky wasn’t doing good the next morning. After some frantic Googling, phone calls, and gut-wrenching stares at my bank account, we had to make the decision to let him go to the rainbow bridge. RIP, Nicky. May your next life have fewer pitfalls and more sunshine.

That was the mere drop in the bucket to the shit storm I have already been dealing with. See right before my mother got hurt in 2023, we bought a car. Which died last year after mom did. Raven still lives in the driveway until I can figure out if I can fix her or not. Hard to tell but here we are. So, we start hunting around for vehicles… Let's just say not an easy task when you have no way to go look at them. 

So, after failed promises, Hubby reaches out to a co-worker. We end up with a 02 Ford Focus. Low miles, minor damage, but nothing I can’t deal with. Was told nothing was mechanically wrong with it but struts. BOY was I fucking lied to. But that’s a story for another time. Any who…. Ever since the day we bought this car there has been a miss, backfire, and you have to watch her because she will pull power and cut out at any moment. Mostly while sitting at a light or having to slow down to nearly a stop. Been switching parts here and there as I could afford it. 

Which brings us to last week, and hubby brought the car by the Parts house to get the engine light checked… again. Haven’t been up that way in a minute to have it done myself so hence it took longer than needed to be handled. 

See, our lovely four-cylinder chaos machine decided it was done pretending the check engine light was just a suggestion and started not letting me take off without playing with the gas pedal to find that sweet spot. ON Scanner: Comes back to a misfire on cylinder 4. Cool. I knew how to handle that already. Been down this road before when it came back to a misfire on cylinder 2, replaced plugs a month or so back. I thought we were safe or would be good for a little bit. Turns out, the real culprit was the coil pack (or ignition coil for the mechanics out there). Because while it was on the reader, it started jumping on the misfire. Of course it was. Life loves a good plot twist.

Pro tip: If you have a misfire on 1 and it jumps to a misfire on 3 or 2 and jumps to 4 that is your coil pack tattling on itself when it comes to a 4 cylinder. Pretty much the same with a 6 but you might have multiple coil packs to keep an eye on. Replace plugs, wires, and coil pack that way you hit the trifecta.

Any who… we order the parts early in the week. So, they would come in yesterday for me to work on the car today while hubby and Gremlin were asleep. Hubby goes to pick up the parts on his way to work after they came in. Next plot twist: right coil, wrong wires. Because why in the hell not? My car is one of three different builds from that model year, because the engineers clearly wanted to keep us humble and guessing. So, I'm like fuck it. I will work with what I got and wait on the rest.

Gremlin decided to stay up till nearly 3:30ish am. So, I didn’t get hardly shit for sleep. Kind of used to and it is what it is. So, not in a great mood, everyone still sleeping, and humidity that clings to you like regret and bad decisions later, I’m out the door to the thankfully shady driveway to fix said car.

It's 89 degrees outside with a real feel of 101, and I'm out there trying to do mechanical triage while the car stares back like, “You sure about this?” The bolts? Star bits, not the 7mm from the video. (Yes, I watched YouTube to make sure there weren’t going to be any surprises.) Which clearly didn’t matter because as it turns out, surprise is my car’s love language. Nothing can be easy. Got the first two off with no problem, after finding the star bit screwdriver. Broke one off. Seized another. I had to wake Robby, search for my bits. We definitely own but the garage and house swear they’ve never seen before.

Long story short: the damn thing is fixed. Johnny 5 lives. No more stalling. She takes off like a bat out of hell now. And yet when I come back inside, sweat-drenched and victorious, expecting maybe a fraction of a moment. A flicker of peace. A cold drink and a pat on the back.

Instead? Gremlin is doing his best impression of a DJ with ADHD, switching movies every ten minutes and treating the living room like a rave. Hubby? Sitting at the table. Like it’s any other Friday. And me? Trying to write this blog post with my brain melting and my patience curled up under the couch somewhere whispering, “Nope, you can’t make me.”

But here's the thing: We don’t do quiet in this house. We do chaos. We do duct tape and sarcasm, mixed with a hell of a lot of dark humor. We do “figure it out because nobody else will.” We do screaming non-verbal 9-year-old and partners who think "being helpful" means moral support from a seated position and complaining every 5 damn minutes about something they could have easily done themselves. 

We do misfiring engines, spark chasing, star bolts, where regulars should be, busted coil packs and failing CV axels to finally, finally have a working car, I can drive to the store without worrying about getting into an accident. If that’s not a win in the middle of this beautiful mess, I don’t know what is.

So no, today wasn’t peaceful. But it never really is. It’s loud. It was lived. And maybe, just maybe... that’s enough.

Therefore, when you are ready to pull your hair out, because let's face facts we all get to that point, realize the messy bits is what make your life unique. Whether that chaos is in your life, stories, or current situation, take a deep breath and remember shit happens. We deal with it, and tomorrow isn’t promised for any of us. 

Now go and enjoy your weekend. Drop some comments on what you dealt with this week and possible plans for the weekend. I have to get my writing assignment done for the Saturday Night Show on Twitch: Hold My Pen Promptcast. So, in the words of Pinky and the Brain, I’m going to try to take over the world, one paragraph at a time. Peace and Love. Stay hydrated. And Remember Be Brave Be Bold BUT Always Stay Humble.

Catch you guys on Monday.

"I’m Still Here — And That Has to Be Enough Some Days"

Good evening everyone. I know this is coming in late today, but I did a mental health shut down for a good bit of the day. Which I recommend for those that can pry themselves away from tech, without disrupting their work. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have just felt physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. And that hits hard when you're carrying the world (or at least your slice of it) on your shoulders.

 We have the heat/ humidity, which here in the south, is like that cousin that can’t seem to read the damn room. Responsibility of work, house, family and community that seems to guilt trip you when you aren’t present enough. And oh, let's not forget, school is just around the corner.

While most of us are gearing up for the battle of bedtimes, no you can’t wear that, and where the hell are all the socks. Others are now dealing with empty nest syndrome, as now all of their gremlins have scurried off to lives of their own. They prayed for this day to come and now that it's here, they regret the words ever leaving their mouths. While I’m not personally going to have to deal with that for a while, if ever because of my son’s autism, I do understand.

We personally show up every day as parents. No sick days. No time off. And for us stay at home parents, our only sound of stillness is from the time they get on the bus till they get home. Doesn’t mean we don’t love our kids; it means the summer beat our asses with a switch and now we need some time to recover. That looks different for every person and parent.

For me, that’s 8ish hours of moving room to room deep cleaning. Getting laundry and writing done in a semi timely manner and sitting in quiet with that first cup of coffee before chaos erupts the way it always does. That’s preparing for homework and bad days. The worry of will he make friends this year, or will it be radio silence like it has for the last four years. While also hanging on by a damn thread.

Right now, I’m just hanging on the best way I can. Still putting two feet on the floor and squaring up like the world isn’t going to beat me. The reality is we have that choice. We can choose to be the victims and let life beat us down like we owe it money, or we can stand up and fight. Fight for our own little corner of the damn world with our writing, art, or whatever brings us joy. 

I’m reminded of something Momma used to say to me all the time. “It’s time to put up or shut up. Everyone gets knocked down. It's how you rise up that will either make you a legend or a fleeting memory. Cry. Scream. Let it the fuck out. And when you are done. Do something the fuck about it.” 

So, while we are all preparing for the next season of our lives, remember nothing lasts forever. This too shall pass. And if all you did was fucking exist today, I’m proud of you. I see the struggle, and it's not pretty for any of us. Some of us hide behind filters, while the rest of us hide the shit with dark humor, caffeine and throw pillows. Whatever keeps you on this side of the dirt, in a state of health, happiness, and humor, is a damn win. 

Now shoulders back, chest out, and strut. You got this, because I believe in you. Now I got to run, the gremlin took off with my drink again. So, Peace and Love. Remember Be Brave Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble. Catch you guys in a bit.

My Life Is The Plot Twist I Write The Most.

Good Evening all. Welcome to the Monday edition of Chaos from the Keyboard, how was your weekend? Did you survive this horrid heatwave? Did you get anything, no matter how small, knocked off your to-do list? Did you take any kind of enjoyment out of the weekend? Yes… No… Maybe So? Yeah, me either.

I survived the weekend, but not without a now massive countdown to both the Gremlin and husband going back to normal (or in this house) normalish schedules. Hence the reason it has taken me damn near all day to try to write this post, and while most would have sucked it up and said there is always tomorrow…. No there isn’t because tomorrow I have a hundred other things to-do. 

But here is the current “able to breathe moment/ realization”. A week from Friday is registration and the 6th, he returns to school and I return to semi quiet during the day. Hubby’s work, on the other hand, can’t decide from one minute to the next if they are or aren't working weekends. With school returning, it's an almost guarantee they will go back to working every or every other weekend without fail. Which allows me to do what I do best, manage a household by the number of players on the field. 

Now on with the show, we have a new addition to the wildlife that has taken up residency on the property. A raccoon. Yes, an actual raccoon. She (I have seen babies with her) decided to raid my dog’s, Major, food. Now from time to time one of the outdoor cats will get in the bag, but never a Raccoon. 

And because apparently I’m writing a YA rom-com subplot with a side of trash panda magic, it left three shiny little “gifts” in the bag like some unhinged woodland offering or trade. Respect the hustle, but girl, really? Though it was one of the missing sockets, a bad terminal we just replaced, and a wrench. I have no idea where this wrench came from, it's not one of our brands from any of the sets.  

There there was the two legged chaos that has me in a constant state of “am I dreaming or did that actually just fucking happen?” 

Let’s dive in shall we. Due to the overwhelming high temps this weekend, the rest of the grass has not been mowed. And the tree on the garage still remains. Almost to the point of doing it my damn self but will definitely need a second set of hands. I had to fix the washer because it decided it wasn’t going to engage the lock for the lid. Easy fix but not when you didn’t know for two days it was sticking. Hubby was supposed to be handling that. 

Gremlin has been on a “only one movie from each service” kick. Netflix- Klause…. Disney- Parent Trap (Lindsey Lohand).... And the old DVR- Pride and Prejudice (Kera Knightly) but only after watching the first 15 minutes of every movie until we get there. Which happens to be a pain in the ass because sometime last week the remote died and is no longer being detected by the DVR… And that was only Saturday and Sunday.

Today… Well… Hubby didn’t get up on time for work, so he left late. Couldn’t do much around the house because Ares was on the war path. Add that to a caffeine-fueled to-do list, a house that still looks like a disaster movie in Act II, and the creeping dread that my blog still wasn’t written... and boom. Welcome to Monday’s twisted little sequel.

But it wasn’t all bad. I had a long overdue conversation with an old friend, the kind that clears cobwebs and resets your inner compass. Turns out, I’m not crazy. (Well... not for the reasons I thought.)

So here I am. Covered in plot holes, powered by iced coffee and spite, crawling toward productivity or at this point in the evening my bed. I still have a blog post to polish, a story prompt to finish, and a raccoon with main character energy who may or may not be my new familiar.

Plot twist? Nah. Just another Monday.

And for right now thats all I have. Catch me tomorrow as I catch you up on the rest of the story….

 Be Brave, Be Bold, Always Stay Humble

Still Here, Still Standing: Notes from the Edge of Burnout

Hey Peps. It’s Friday and we made it. But somewhere between bedtimes, meltdowns, and breakdown, I lost track of time…. Again.

    This week started like every other. Guilt raising its ugly ass head, because nothing substantial got done over the weekend. And what did get done well let's just say it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in comparison. Everything from being tricked into falling asleep early (thanks, Gremlin), only to be shocked wide awake by 1:30 a.m. with a very awake, very non-verbal 9-year-old bouncing off the walls like he’s gearing up for a rave. 

I’ve felt like I’ve been rolled over, backed up, and someone hit the gas again. Not in one giant, dramatic collapse (this isn’t the movies), but in the small, steady ways that chip away at you. The kind of tiredness and pure exhaustion that doesn’t go away with sleep. The kind of heavy that isn’t about how much you're carrying, but how long you’ve been carrying it.

So, I sat there, sipping lukewarm coffee in the quiet hours of the morning after my husband made it home, wondering if this was just a bad dream or the new normal. Spoiler: it’s both. Caretaking. Parenting. Surviving. Hustling for peace and purpose between bills, speech therapy sessions, and whatever chaos the day decides to throw at me next. There’s a rhythm to it now. Part muscle memory, part sheer will power disguised as having all my ducks in a row. And honestly? Sometimes that scares me more than the chaos, because no one in their right mind should think this is just another day in paradise. 

But here’s the thing: I’m still here. Still pushing forward like the little engine that could because in all due respect this is my life. 

Parenting a neurodivergent child isn’t just a full-time job. No, it’s a marathon in the dark with no map, no water breaks, and a finish line that keeps moving. Gremlin, as he will be referred to for obvious reasons, is almost ten. The switch flipped in him, where he went from speaking in complete sentences, feeding himself, and developmentally head, when he was between 18 months and 2 years old. And after fighting tooth and nail, finally got his diagnosis right before he turned 5. 

He’s now nearly my size. He can’t always tell me what’s wrong, but his frustration is loud and clear even if his wants and needs currently aren’t. He doesn’t sleep well, and neither do I. There are moments when I look at him and wonder how much longer I can lift him, how many more nights my body will bend without breaking. And yet… here we are. Because when push comes to shove, he’s the reason I’m still putting two feet on the floor every damn morning.

Still showing up for my son, even when words don’t come easy and meltdowns shake the walls. Still holding the line when the world is too loud for both of us, and there is no real help in sight. Still writing. Still working. Still pushing through the haze to find little pockets of joy.

Like the way he dances to music when he thinks I’m not watching. The well-timed meme or video that hits way too close to home. The quiet moments when the coffee is still hot and the world is, just for a second, still.

Burnout is real and has many layers. But so does resilience. 

Burnout isn’t just about being tired. It's that feeling of being hollowed out like a pumpkin. Like you’re going through the motions while the core of you has quietly gone offline, and you hope will eventually reboot. It's cooking meals while holding back tears. It’s smiling at your kid while secretly wondering who’s going to take care of you when you finally drop.

I don’t always talk about what it was like being a caretaker for both my mom and my son. Mainly because it’s a shit show that I’m still dealing with, even though mom is gone. Or about losing a job because I stood by my principles, or about living in a house that isn’t mine, because life didn’t go the way I planned. For those that wish to know. When my mom died last year, I retained the house that was hers and I have lived in for over 10 years. 

But here is the real kick in the shorts, I carry it. All of it. And most days, I carry it alone. I carry the responsibility of a human being, a wife, a mother, a grieving daughter, a writer, author, friend, you name it, here the fuck I am juggling chainsaws like it's just another day. The problem with that is very few people know I’m struggling to smile through the pain, through the meltdowns and exhaustion, through the missed deadlines and beating myself up over it all. And the ones that do know and have sat with me while I've fallen apart… may the universe bless you every day because I know I’m not easy to deal with. 

You're probably asking yourself the same thing I do every day. With all the shit, how do I keep moving forward when the whole damn world seems to be throwing me for a damn loop. What keeps me going is simple or at least simple to me. Getting lost in my playlist, even when the song's meanings are sometimes too much to bear. The Gremlin dancing around his room with happy squeals or the mess he makes. Yes, even when I’ve had the absolute limit with him and the never-ending parade of toys, I remember he’s only this age and size for a short amount of time, and before I can blink it’ll be gone. Lastly, the Hey, Jules from everyone in my life. From cooking to car repairs, from heartache to plot points, and the “hey, I've had one hell of a day. Can you just sit here so I'm not alone?” 

I suit up, show up usually with a Red Bull in hand, and get ready to do what I need to do. Even if it’s pure spite I put one foot in front of the other. Cause let’s be real right now, sometimes all we have is spite, rage, and the heart we wish we could turn off from time to time. We don’t though. We keep pushing forward, usually dragging someone else kicking and screaming with us. It’s called showing up and showing out. Most of the time, it’s just that I don’t know how to stop. I refuse to lay down the sword and I will go down hard. Even when I want to quit, stop or give up... I dust off, stand back up, and put my shoulder into it like any good lineman would.

So… Even through the noise, chaos, and characters that now want to shut up when it's finally their turn to sound off… I’M Still Here, Still Standing, Still Digging My heels in not giving up much ground. And If I can… SO CAN YOU. Because it's not about who finished first. It's about saying you're not going to fucking break me.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I don’t know what you’re carrying, but I hope you give yourself credit for the weight of it. For how far you’ve come. I’m not writing from a place of resolution, because is anything really every resolved? This isn’t the summit of the mountaintop. This is the messy middle. But I’m here. And so are you.

We’re still here. Still standing. Even if it’s on one leg, with eye bags and an empty coffee pot. That counts for more than anyone gives us credit for. We might be down, but we are never out until we refuse to get our asses back up.

SO, Weekend Vibes & What's Ahead for this chaos momma. I’m keeping it simple this weekend. Nothing too ambitious, but a few things on the list:

Promptcast Saturday Night on Twitch. (because we need the good kind of shock and awe)

Catching up on Sweet Magnolia (because yes, I need that chaos that isn’t mine for once)

Some deep cleaning (the kind where you open a drawer and wonder if it’s a time capsule or the missing paperwork for the appliances you no longer own.)

Writing time, if the universe and or Gremlin allows

Finally taking the first stab at organizing my office… maybe

It’s not glamorous, but it’s movement. And for now, that’s enough.

To everyone else towing the edge of burnout like a dead car you should have left on the side of the road… you’re not alone. Even if the world doesn’t see how hard you’re fighting just to stand up every day… I see you. And I’m right here with you. Still here. Still standing. Still fighting. We Got this. Now go do the damn thing, and I’ll catch you Monday with the next installment of Chaos from the Keyboard.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

"The Guilt of Being Tired All the Damn Time"

Hey Peps. I’m coming to you live at damn near 4am on this Wednesday morning. Why am I awake you might ask. Funny story that’s not so damn funny. My chaos gremlin hasn’t been sleeping on a normal schedule for damn near 3 weeks. The meds have stopped working and when we get closer to answers on why this is happening, well, lets just say he reverts back to default mode. Everything will be fine for a few days, and then BAM here we go again. 

In the last 48hrs, I have personally slept a total of maybe 7hrs and that's probably a generous estimate. In the last week I have averaged 6hrs, with only a few days of real sleep to bump that number up. I already have insomnia, depression, anxiety, and the real kicker is I'm an unmedicated Bi-polar with undiagnosed ADHD, OCD, and probably a slew of other shit I can’t afford to find out right now. The point is that this is reality for a lot of us. 

Kids are awake so we have to be alert. We push ourselves to meet deadlines that as Indies don’t exist, well not really. We work on our own timelines but if we want to stay relevant then we have to work 10 times harder than those with traditional publishers. Hiding the fact, that we have no damn idea what the actual fuck we are doing. 

We are fueled with caffeine and the need to prove a point. Stories pour out of us like vessels too full from all the details we have been presented with. Timelines, we can hardly keep straight. So much physical detail and research, that our eyes burn from staring at screens way too long. Done all in the name of our craft. Some trade actual human interaction for characters that snub them at the first slight.  

That’s when the exhaustion from not only burning the midnight oil but also the candle at both ends. That’s also when the imposter syndrome, self-doubt, and self-worth starts running around the room like a toddler jacked up on Coke and gummy bears. The actual kids are following suit and you're holding on like a weather vein in a tornado. During this you finally open your eyes to the chaos that has been brewing around you for days, weeks, or months. 

The sink is full of dirty dishes. No one has thought to put laundry on or started it and never switched it out. The kids, or in my case kid, have destroyed three rooms (one of which was his own), and caused a semi flood in the bathroom. All while I had my head in the game for a few hours. 

Simple truth…. For a SAHM or Parent…. There is no damn work life balance. If we do have budding careers we handle from home, it's a tight rope act of keeping kids occupied, house handled, while also getting a couple thousand words on the paper a day. It’s constant interruption, while trying to stay present for our children. It's brainstorming, while asking a child why he felt the need to cover his dresser with stickers. It’s half ass plotting, while making him his fourth bologna sandwich for the day. It’s character development, while watching the live character you created have a damn meltdown because Netflix took off his movie. 

It’s also feeling like shit because the last real thing you ate was a cold hotdog while passing the fridge on one of the million movie changes. Living off Coffee and Red Bull like its a damn blood type. Smoking or vaping for stimulation that isn’t working because you have already overloaded. And the Lack of FUCKIING SLEEP you can't seem to catch up on because you're the parent that has to handle it all.

I see you. I hear the frustration when you're like “can you just give me one actual minute.” When you make up reasons to go to the store, not because you or the house needs anything, but because you just need a damn minute to sit in the quiet. Not have tiny fingers pull on you, or voices asking you a thousand questions. 

It’s OKAY not to be OKAY. It’s fine to pull yourself away to recenter yourself. What is not okay, though is pretending your fine when you're not fucking fine. Smiling politely, while the world is handing you a shit sandwich and you’re still trying to cope with the smell let alone the taste. When you happen to be the only functioning ass adult, and no one has even thought to cover your 6. It’s not right, and it's certainly not fair. 

So… this is what I need you to do today. 

BREATHE. That’s step 1. 

Step 2: Go check on the laundry. No one needs that smell, especially you. 

3: Drink some damn water. I don’t care if it's Kool aid. Let's try one drink that isn’t semi rocket fuel today. 

4: Find 10 minutes to sit in silence. Even if that silence is an audio book, rage music, or actually no one is allowed to say a damn word. 

5: This would be a good time to think about dinner. (Pizza is always a viable option) 

6: Let what will be actually be for a bit. This is the be present part. The story will wait but our kids are only ours for a short amount of time. 

Now if you actually have the energy after everyone is fed, cleaned up, and snuggled to actually do some writing then hit it. 45 minutes only. Then bed.

The struggle is real, but the real struggle is not losing yourself in the rat race we call life. Drop some comments below and tell me how you're making it through. Peace and Love. And Remember Be Brave, Be Bold, but Always Stay Humble. Catch you guys on Friday.

Reclaiming My Writing Space: The Office That Fights Back and Characters Side eye.

 Afternoon, peeps. How was your weekend? Well, if your weekend looked anything like mine, you're probably dealing with some degree of burnout physical, emotional, and domestic. For me, the zones I worked so hard to organize and contain into their own personal quadrant… They’re no longer just blending; they’re hemorrhaging into each other like it's their full-time job, and I personally slacked on the memo for overtime. That is all in the course of three days. 

My husband, God love him, because some days I have to remind myself, has turned my office into the household drop zone. His new tactic? Bring everything into the office: laundry, bills, groceries, etc... Like somehow, putting it all in front of me or in my way will make me deal with it faster. Spoiler alert: it doesn't. (SOMEONE please tell me mine isn't the only one.) Like he had to either walk past or through where the hell it belongs before he got to me.

Let’s be clear: this is never just about a room, or the house, or the mountain of tasks, we have to deal with in any given day. It's about what is supposed to be our personal space and shared effort between parents. My writing zone. My sanctuary where the coffee stays at the perfect temp, the ideas flow, and the chaos of the house gets shut behind a closed door or in my case the curtain because this room never had a door. BUT somewhere between laundry baskets, scattered crayons, and a husband who can’t tell the difference between “just set it there for a second” and “It now lives there,” this office turned into a warzone. Oh, and let's add in two cats that seem to think everything needs their personal claw marks.

You know the kind of place I’m talking about, because we all have at least one or six in the house. Where stacks of paperwork and last year's school projects multiply like rabbits, broken pens stage an uprising, and every flat surface becomes a drop zone for everything that isn’t writing. It's getting to the point where even my characters are like, “Yeah… we’ll come back when it’s less apocalyptic in here.” Which doesn’t work when you have fifty WIPS and more ideas every damn day. So, I’m doing what any battle-hardened writer does: I grabbed a coffee, lite a cigarette, and stared into the void that is my office window… while coming up with a half assed battle plan to start cleaning. 

Not because I suddenly found the motivation, because it's Monday and I’ve been the only General on duty for the last 3 weeks or so. More like since the Chaos gremlin got out of summer school, and I got home from Green Bay’s Pack in the Readers. I’ve realized something has to give, and it damn sure isn’t going to be my stories. This chaos? It doesn’t get to win. My stories deserve better. I deserve better. And this space? It's about to remember who it belongs to.

The bookshelves have to get emptied, as that whole corner has become a “temporary” junk pile from back in early to mid 2024? Made worse by cats and gremlin knocking everything off the surfaces when they want attention. It has been started and fingers crossed will be completed by closes of business day, which for me is around 9 to midnight. What I've currently found in my pursuit. I own sticky notes, highlighters, and a filing system. My other laptop is still balancing on a stack of unopened mail and misplaced/ hidden crayons. IYKYK. But at least it’s back in the area where it belongs. Front and Center, ready for the marketing work I keep neglecting to do…..🙄

This isn’t about aesthetics or God forbid, functionality. It’s about power. It's about reclaiming a piece of self, that’s been buried under obligations, exhaustion, and everyone else's crap while you smile and keep pushing forward. Because I know when my space is mine like truly MINE, I show up fully. As a writer, creator, as someone who still has something to say, even after the world tried to silence me into the roll and bullshit, I was never signed up to play. 

Look at it this way for just a hot minute, The Brady’s had Alice. Tabitha had her nose, and all these Instagram moms have good lighting and a smoke, and mirrors act. We are Lucy Ball in Yours, Mine and Ours. We’re every 90s family sitcom where the parent takes no shit. We're the foul-mouthed, tank top-wearing, cigarette-hanging, lukewarm coffee-sipping warriors just trying to survive the damn day.

So, here's your daily reminder: If your writing space is fighting back, fight harder. Your space doesn’t have to be spotless. You don’t need perfection. You need a corner of the world that feels like yours again. It doesn’t even have to be quiet. It just has to be yours again. Claim it. Even if all you do today is kick a path through the mess and whisper “I’m coming back,” that counts. Be careful though, I found a wooden block the hard way then tripped into the other chair where I caught my pinky toe. Remember your characters will thank and reward you, hopefully with the next beat of the story. Your sanity will be able to weave itself back together before you snap.

Breathe. Eventually, like me, order will restore. Maybe around August 6th. What about you? When does your chaos dial back just enough to reclaim a little piece of yourself?

Remember Be Brave, Be Bold, but Always Stay Humble.

Summer Break is Kicking My Ass (and I’m the Grown-Up)

Good Morning my fellow peeps. Let me paint you a picture of my morning, because it's too out there in left field not to share. 

It’s mid-July. We are three weeks from School registration and just over three and a half weeks until the chaos gremlin, I call my child, returns. The house looks like a tornado hit it twice. Everything I did yesterday has been dismantled before my feet hit the floor. The kid is running his own personal water park out of my bathroom tub. He’s contained and at least the water isn’t all over the bathroom…. YET…. I’m sitting here with a Red Bull and Cigarette wondering if I have the energy to deal with this shit today. NEWS FLASH: I’m going to go with a NO. 

The Olympics of DVD/ T.V. swaps haven't begun yet and snack demands, which he doesn’t either know or hasn’t realized is in the house, will begin promptly after I shut the water park down along with a fair amount of screaming. I’m three sips into a Watermelon Red Bull trying to remember what the last thing I’ve actually eaten was. Spoiler: It was a Veggie Pizza around 7pm last night. The same pizza I left a little more than half of to find completely gone this morning. (HUSBANDS)

Let's be crystal clear about a few things. Summer breaks used to be this magical thing when we were kids. Popsicles, bike rides, staying up late, sleeping in until 11-12:00 and off we go again. Getting into all kinds of things with God knows who. As long as we were back before the streetlights came on and checked in with at least one of twelve adults that day, we were square. And by check in, we called home and left a message on the answering machine, stopping by Grandpa’s for lunch.

Now? Now it’s an unpaid, unrelenting full-time job where the boss is 9 years old, has zero chill, and apparently doesn’t need sleep like the rest of us. And that’s only if you're a SAHP like me. Some of y’all got it much worse, with having to figure out childcare to keep your kids so you can still work. It isn’t easy for either side of the coin. One side there is no escape, and the other well you have to pay to escape, and that is a not so pretty penny.

Summertime is supposed to be this time for families. It's a time we plan for all the wonderful things we are going to do with our kids to create all the memories. It’s what some of us look forward to every year, just to have that little thing called reality smack you in the face like a hallway bully looking for your lunch or lunch money. 

Everything is expensive. Between gas, logging, and food… you just spent a third to half your budget. Then driving to your destination with everyone screaming. That’s enough to make you rethink your life choices. OH, and let's talk about ticket prices for anywhere you want to go… I didn’t have time to sell a kidney, Sharon. 

I know what a lot of you are going to say “hey certain things are free.” And you're right. The park is free. Most of the splash pads are free. And going to the lake or river is free. You still have to afford at the bare minimum snacks and gas. With this heatwave and never knowing when it is or isn’t gunna rain, we stay home. Where the Laundry is Exploding, the Dishes are Constant, and my Sanity is On life support and waiting for someone to read them last rights.

Meanwhile, I’m still trying to write books, market them, edit chapters, keep a blog alive, and build a damn business. Oh and remember to brush my teeth and not live off caffeine and passive aggressive rage. Some if not most days, I fail spectacularly. But here’s the truth I’ve had to choke down with my lukewarm coffee with the mantra: being overwhelmed doesn’t mean I’m failing. Playing on damn repeat. It means we are doing too damn much without enough backup.

So if you’re like me right now. Juggling kids, house, life, deadlines, and a brain that’s hanging on by a thread. I see you. And I promise you’re not alone. We’re surviving. Some days barely. But it still counts.

You don’t need a cape unless you know where Harry left the invisibility one at. You don’t need to be superhuman, Even Superwoman needed Superman's Soul. You just need to keep going, Shoulders back tits up and a growl that would make your book boyfriend bow.

You got this and even if you don’t. Well, it's fine… everything is fine… the world is on fire,
but it was on fire yesterday so its fucking fine. Breathe. You don’t have to be perfect; you just have to keep them from playing with matches and burning the house down. As long as the house is still standing, you have all kids/ pets accounted for, and no one is bleeding. That's a win.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and stop the 3rd not kid approved movie from starting today and pray there’s enough clean laundry for everyone to wear shorts/pants. Be Kind to yourself. And it is completely acceptable to hide in the laundry room and pretend you have to “FIX” the washer and or dryer.

What’s your summer survival strategy? Drop it in the comments. And if yours involves snacks, caffeine, and hiding in the bathroom for five minutes of peace, same.

Remember Be Brave, Be Bold, but Always Stay Humble. 

"I Know I’m Spiraling — But I Can’t Stop It"

It’s Wednesday, not a happy hump day, or even a "we are almost to the weekend". It’s that halfway point where you’re too far from the weekend to relax, and just close enough to Monday to still be pissed off about it. Add five hours of sleep, a broken house schedule, and a kid playing T.V./DVD roulette like he has found his mother’s last nerve and is poking it with a stick, a writing schedule that looks more like swiss cheese than coherent thoughts and guess what you’ve got… ME. Right now. Running on Watermelon Red Bull, rage, and a whisper of hope that seems more like a devil and angel situation. 

Let’s be real. Like in the trenches, bottom of the hole that you can’t climb out of, ready to get in your car and drive 90 down a busy highway to get as far from the situation as fast as possible, kind of real, right now. Life doesn’t hit the pause button because the kids are out of school for the summer and you are now their source for everything from entertainment and food to driving them EVERYWHERE for EVERYTHING. It doesn’t “play nice” because you have 10 hours or less of sleep in 48 hours. Nothing stops just because your body’s drained, your face hurts because of a broken tooth, and your patience is skating on thin ice in a heatwave. 

You still have laundry to switch (again), blog posts to write (like this one), and a house that’s divided into survival zones. And writing? That thing I love most? She’s over in the corner with crossed arms, tapping her foot like a disappointed teacher, asking if I’m ready to show up or not.

We are all playing the balancing game with spinning plates and chainsaws, just praying one doesn’t catch us in the leg or foot. Today, I’m settling for not screaming into the void while folding clothes and praying the kid doesn’t find another DVD to shove halfway into the TV. Today, I came up with more of a sanity plan instead of another to-do list that won't get to-done. 

But here is my midweek check-in that should make you feel better about your own life or at the very least let you know you're not alone. 

Laundry… hahaha. It looks like every stitch of clothes has exploded all over my house. This is why you never assume they are being good or asleep when they are quiet. 

Kid… he’s playing Russian roulette with movies on several sources, along with destroying his room with every toy he owns. Picking battles with him is like trying to remember if it's worth the high pitch screaming (non-Verbal child). Sometime like today, It’s NOT WORTH IT. 

Hubby… Let’s just say I’m overjoyed when he gets up and heads off to work. I'm then down to one kid instead of two. Love him to death but sometimes I wonder how there is a 15 year age gap between us. And I swear he acts like a damn cat, scoffing if something isn’t done or he doesn’t get his way. So, yea….

Me…. I’m holding it down with Caffeine, Nicotine, and RAGE. Channeling anger through housework and Characters that think they know better than me where this story is going… NewsFlash… They do. Currently, I have a house that looks like a tornado hit it, a yard that looks like wild kingdom, and 5 books going at once because yea I need that kind of Chaos in my life. Also editing one book, and trying to get back on track with a series. When I tell people I juggle chainsaws, they typically laugh at me. Then I explain… no one gets the joke but I do get some horrified looks. So hey a win in someone's book. 

My point is this: If you're feeling the burnout today, I see you, and sweetheart, I ain’t judging one damn bit. You’re juggling bills, heat, a house that won’t clean itself (no matter what Disney led us to believe), and creative work on top of it… you’re not alone. You don’t have to do it all today. You just have to do enough to get one step closer. And if all you did was show up and breathe? That counts too. 

Drop a comment and tell me what your chaos looks like this week. What zone are you battling today? And if your muse is acting like a diva, join the club. I brought snacks, drinks, and fuzzy blankets/socks. Take your pick. Because the real shit at the end of the day is simply we are all in this together. No one gets out of this alive and never trust your kid giving you a bag of chips to be sweet. They just can’t get them open.

Alright now. I'm going to go get the tiny (4’6 and a half inches and just as strong as me most days) chaos demon wrangled to go to speech therapy. First time I have left the house in days. Wish me Luck. 

Remember Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble. 

"When the Muse is Drowning in Laundry"

Inspiration doesn’t come like a lightning bolt of perfectly curated thoughts and actions. It doesn’t wistfully dance into your creative space patiently waiting its turn in your life. It doesn’t wait until you have a free minute, let alone a free hand to handle something. NO… HELL NO….

If your muse is anything like mine, it comes strutting in like a drunk frat boy looking for a sandwich and something to derail. Other times it comes running in like a toddler jacked up on Surge and Jolt cola (LOOKING FOR MY 80s and 90s), with a glitter bomb, at least two permanent markers, and what we currently pray is only mud on the bottom of their feet demanding attention. 

But what happens when you stop everything and grab that piece of paper, phone, or even manage through the chaos to get the voice note open on your phone? Anybody? Anybody at all? Yeppers… it leaves your head and or hand faster than a cold drink in a car of screaming kids. And now you're pissed… not just a wtf kind of pissed. You're now having the meltdown your kids are currently having because the T.V. isn’t working right. Netflix has taken their favorite show/ movie off (IYKYK), or god forbid the internet decided to have a hiccup at 2pm in the afternoon sending all devices connected into a state of circle of death. 

For a lot of us it's just another Monday and/ or week of dealing with this until school is back in session and the next level of hell starts. Because then we have everything else to balance. Days when creativity feels like a faucet that someone's jackass keeps turning on and off like a garden hose on a hot day. Days when it feels like the drain’s clogged with mismatched socks, overdue bills, and the 3rd load of laundry you meant to switch over two days ago, but now your rewashing for the 3rd time.

Peeps, I SEE YOU. I see the struggle bussin because guess what boo. I am too. There isn’t a moment of my day when I’m not like “please for the love of everything holy leave me be.” By the way, I only have one. There are a lot of you out there with a lot more than that. But my son is like 5 in 1. He has non verbal autism. 

SO between educational T.V., him going into meltdowns over the smallest thing sometimes, and my husband, who works nights, I have to be a one woman wrecking crew. Conquering my ever growing WIPs with a house that looks like a tornado hit it, because my son thought it would be a good idea to throw all the clean laundry all over the house, in the split second it took me to actually go to the bathroom. 

What I am trying to get at here is there is no such thing as balance when you are the primary parent that has any sort of creativity as your primary source of work. And when that work has you locked into your house 24/7 you're ready to scream and pull your own damn hair out. I don’t have a support system, well not one that lives close enough to help. My mom, who helped me with my son, so I could work, write, and well let's face facts, just breathe or take a breath passed a year ago. And the year before that she was in a rehab facility because she broke her back. Shit gets real fast when you don’t have someone you can lean on or trust.

So before you throw your hands in the air and say I can’t do this. Take a minute. And realize you're not alone. There are tons of us out here making it day by day trying not to die under the mountain of house work, bills and expenses that keep adding up, and living each moment between meltdowns and moody ass characters that decided now would be a good time to stop talking to you. Or my personal favorite cats that think they can type and lose three days worth of hard work. (thanks to whoever came up with the back date.)

It's controlled, loosely controlled, chaos. Writing isn’t romantic when your back hurts from cleaning and the only soundtrack you’ve had for hours is Baby Bum or a meltdown over the DVR losing connection to a t.v. it was never meant to connect to all because your child will lose his ever lovin shit because he can’t watch Alvin and the Chipmunks for the billionth time this week. 

So if today, your big win is getting two paragraphs written between switching laundry loads and finding snacks for your kid. Guess what… you’re not failing. You’re writing through the storm. You’re being the badass you need to be. And I am proud of you. One more thing before I leave you on this Monday, it doesn’t have to be perfect…. You can’t edit what you don’t have. And my favorite, no your character is never going to do what you want them to… please don’t give up hope. 

What’s your muse juggling today? Drop a comment or tell me how you make time when life’s falling apart around you.

Be Brave, Be Bold, ALWAYS Stay Humble.

See Y’all Wednesday!