The Muse Has ADHD (So Do I)

Good afternoon everyone. I hope everyone’s weekend was amazing. Mine, well lets just say the title of this post says it all. I have been bouncing around trying to get the house back in order while also working on about 6 different stories. And I’ll admit I had a false sense of “once school started back” things would be different. Alas, they are not.

Let me break it down for you. Hubby hasn’t been working weekends. Which sounds awesome right? Wrong. With him being home and supposed to be helping, it's a never ending battle of getting him to do much more than watch anime. And when he does do something it's the direct opposite of what I asked. For example: I’m going into the office to get some work done, please keep an eye out for the Gremlin. 5 minutes later…. Gremlin appears at my side to request his movie changes, drink, food or something has malfunctioned. 

Now he had to walk past his father to get to my office. And when I follow him out. Hubby is face deep in his tablet or phone. I walk past making the passive aggressive remarks but again I’m still doing the task. This goes on all weekend. Now if this is the norm around my house, why am I so pissed, you might be asking yourself. Because I forwent an entire weekend of laundry because he said he’d fix the laundry room floor. NEWS FLASH: It's not fixed and I wasted two full days of not being able to do laundry. So, awesome sauce.

Then you go into the characters that scream at me on the daily. No one ever wants to wait their turn, and I’m scribbling lines down like a cipher to some underground treasure. All while trying to battle a 9 year old, and his 54 year old counterpart. Safe to say my salinity is on the brink of throwing their hands in the air as my husband's alarm screeches in the background. 

I have bounced between all 6 stories this weekend trying to find just the right place for some of these writing prompts to go without them being forced. I have scenes playing in my head but have no idea if this is something new or if it's something that I've already started. So I have one document that literally has tab after tab of just the things that I can see or remember going off in my head, in hopes that it will make sense somewhere. 

Couple all this with the Gremlin’s war on and off on sleep, a house that looks like it's been robbed, and two cats that have no idea that my mouse is not a play toy. Welcome to Monday. 

For most of us that would love to scream and throw hands right now, it's just another day that I’m having to learn not to take too damn seriously. That shit happens not always for the good but we deal with it. Because right now we are the only semi functioning adults to do so. So, drink the coffee, breathe and remember when the mess is gone, the house is quiet, and there is no more “MOM”, we will cry how much we miss it. 

It’s not great in the moment, but it’s where we are. I know that, and you should too. So dust off that notebook and put at the very least a hundred words on the paper. Even if it is on your grocery list. It all fucking counts right now. And keep moving forward. That’s what we have to do. 

Now I have about 10 minutes before the bus pulls up. I’ll talk to you all later. 

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

First Day of School: Feels More Like a War Zone at Home

We made it y’all. We made it to the first day of school, like damn troops battling through high waisted grass praying we didn’t get bit by a damn snake. Especially since the last few days leading up to today have been a bit nuts. Doctor’s appointments, registration, back-to-school shopping, and let's not forget trying to tame the mess we all have been battling uphill since Summer Break started. 

And honestly, I’m a little shocked by the Gremlin’s behavior today. Not because he went to bed on time, or got up on time. Not because he didn’t fight his father over the clothes, shoes, or having to wear socks. Not even because he ate his breakfast, took his meds, and walked out the door and waited patiently for the bus, which he walked on like it was nothing. But because the contrast from last year to this year is like night and flipping day. To him, it was a normal Wednesday. For me, on the other hand, it's the break that I have been waiting for for the last six weeks. 

It’s the chance to get the house back in running order, without having to worry about it being messed up in 30 minutes. It's a chance to deep clean his room without begging for someone to keep him entertained to do so. It's actually folding and putting away laundry instead of living out of clothes baskets because I was doing a hundred things at once. And while having a clean and organized space, should bring me a sense of accomplishment. All I can think about is how is his day going?

Five years of first days, and I still feel the same way I did when he went to Kindergarten. At least this for the last few years, I get to see him get on the bus. I’m a phone call away if shit goes sideways. I’m not stuck on a production line anxiety riddled while he is doing this. I got to get the kiss goodbye, while telling him to have a good day. That’s the joy and sacrifice playing out in real time. 

Joy because I’m right here, 12 minutes from the school keys in hand. I get to be a part of all the special moments: class parties, field trips, and school assemblies. I also get to follow my passion, which I turned into a carree. I get to write and answer emails from fellow authors and fans, while also doing laundry, dishes and taking care of the house. I also get to see his little face when he walks off the bus in the afternoons, without having to rush home covered in god knows what from work. Some would say I’m lucky. 

But here is what I sacrificed to be here. 

Free time, because let’s face it, that doesn’t fucking exist. I’m either working on the house, yard, keeping bills paid, and/or the little Gremlin alive. When I’m not doing that, I’m sitting at my desk in my office trying to bang out at least 2500 to 3k works in a few uninterrupted hours. And even once the house is quiet because of naps, or bed. I’m prepping everything for either the next day, or staring off into space because I have forgotten what I was doing. Then going to sleep to do it all again the next day.

A full time 2nd paycheck. While I make royalties from my books, if they don’t sell well that month, we don’t have the extra money. As a family of three (plus two cats and a dog), we live paycheck to paycheck. And I have successfully kept our heads above water, while also keeping the car in the driveway on the road. It isn’t easy by a long shot. Having a job outside the house is also a blessing and curse. At least you have other semi humans to talk to. I have to wait for all my friends to come home from work to have an adult conversation. Otherwise, It’s just me and the washing machine or YouTube.

Work life balance is a fun one that I have thrown out the damn window. Let’s face facts. Like real down in the mud facts here. Once my feet hit the floor, Red Bull in hand, Cigarette hanging from my lips, and hair thrown up in whatever will keep it off my neck for the next few hours, IT’S GO TIME. It’s opening curtains and surveying damage of a tantrum I was too exhausted to deal with the night before. It’s praying I don’t have to wash the load of laundry for the third time because new flash: I got side tracked. It’s making sure hubby has clothes for work and Gremlin stays in clothes instead of streaking through the house. 

It’s booting up my computer to check a to-do list, project management (which lately is me just sitting here for 10 minutes narrating how I should be doing more.) Then staring out the window looking at all the things I need to do in my own yard… Like cutting it. Breath deep and power through, while managing two other humans lives. Most days that's before the caffeine has told me it's safe to function. 

Being a Stay at Home Parent is the best, most thankless job, we do. Some of us choose this, others, like me, got thrown into it so hard, we now have trauma and whiplash. We don’t have friends. We have battle buddies that see us at our worst and best. At this point, other than the work trip to Green Bay, I haven’t been able to just sit down and socialize. While yes, we do socialize on Saturday nights over on Twitch. We are all there because of one main reason, to make Izzy laugh until she turns purple. (Kidding Izzy… there is crying too)

Most, if not all my friends, live states away. The ones that are close to my area, they have their own lives, and shit to deal with. I respect that. After all, I’m in the same damn river paddling up stream with the rest. But the main point is, the load gets too much to carry. And while yes, I wouldn’t have it any other way right now, doesn’t mean I can’t want things to be a little different. That I shouldn’t want the other half to pull his damn weight inside the house, as he does when he escapes the house. 

So tomorrow, I’m declaring a mental health day/ reward for surviving the summer. I am taking the time out of my day to go get my hair done. Why? Because It makes ME feel human. I’m not just a mom, wife, writer, author, and bestie to a group of amazing peps. I’m also a woman that needs to feel human and not like a damn servant. This is my line in the sand. What’s yours?

If you're out there doing the most with the least this one's for you. Keep swinging, keep showing up. And for the love of your sanity, take your damn mental health day. You’ve earned it. Alright on that note, I have to go see if the washer is off balance again or if it's actually spun out this time. Have an amazing day, and if shit gets rough remember bail isn’t cheap. We will get through all of this one step at a time. You're not a failure if you stumble, and sometimes you need that shinny to get through the day. 

Be Brave, Be Bold But Always Stay Humble.

Writing on Empty and Loving Them Anyway

 

Morning everyone. How was everyone’s weekend? Did you get everything you wanted to get done with the back-to-school season here and the first day approaching like a freight train? I know I made a dent in the massive to-do list. Though if you were to look at my house, it wouldn’t look like it. School supplies are everywhere, school clothes (that took us four stores to find) are still in bags with tags, and I still haven’t found all the Gremlin’s missing socks.   

This is what a two day count down looks like, when you happen to be the only one doing it. Because God knows, all the promises made by the other half went unfulfilled. Which leaves me holding the bag of tricks praying that the rabbit pops out at just the right time with the mantra of “I’ll handle it, I always do.” 

For the tired and mentally exhausted momma, who can’t seem to do anything but keep it together, we throw our boots on and hit the world running at full force. We make sure the school bags are packed, the clothes are clean, and the shoes are right where they need to be. It’s not fun. It’s stressful and by all standards, slightly mind numbing. 

And then while I’m knee deep in laundry, school forms, and general chaos from home life, My Muse Decided to Open the Gates… Now Everyone is Screaming Pick Me all at once. Which after weeks, entire fucking weeks of silence, this should be a great thing. It isn’t though. Because telling them to wait their damn turn could result in revolt once again. 

So, here I sit with a red bull, cigarette, and what was left of my salinity from Sunday. Gremlin is still asleep on the couch. Hubby is sitting at the table watching something on his phone, when he should be in bed for his shift tonight. Laundry is going, dishes will be started in a few minutes, and I found a few minutes of quiet to attempt to write this post to get back on track with the blog. 

But this always happens when I’m least prepared. Those moments when I’m drowning in laundry, trying to find a clean fork or spoon, the Gremlin either won’t sleep or sleeps well past wake up call, and I’m a solid week behind on sleep myself. That's when my muse decides to kick in the damn door like a drama queen on a caffeine bender. Holding a half drank iced coffee, sing songing “We have some sketchy shit to do.” While I’m praying for 5 more minutes, that never seems to come. 

All of a sudden, in piles no less than twelve characters I’ve never seen before in my life. A dozen more characters from current WIPs, but that decided I offended them in some way, so they stopped talking a few months back, and a few loose cats that I swear weren’t here the last time shit went down. All before the caffeine has half assed hit my sole, let alone my body.

Now, I have characters talking over each other. Plot twists flying around like this is a damn airport. A side character I killed off two years ago, is now demanding a redemption arc. Another one is threatening to kiss the villain from a different story/ plot line. And I’m just here, staring at my screen, trying to keep up like I’m live-translating chaos.

I asked for inspiration, not a full blown riot.

But that’s the deal, isn’t it? You don’t get to pick when the story shows up. You just have to decide if you’re gonna answer the door or pretend you’re not home. So yeah, one of my muses has opened the gates. Everyone is screaming. I’m tired. Hundred thousand things to do. And I swear I just saw one of the personalities running with scissors. If that’s not the writer's life, I don’t know what is.

Welcome to Monday…. I’ll servive… I always do… 

The main thing is if you're feeling like this. You’re so not alone. This is the start of a normalish week. Where we just hope to have all our fingers, toes, and nose still attached come Friday. So, take a breath, drink some water, and nibble on something. 

I’m off to fold laundry and get some editing done… If the Muse doesn’t hand me another story idea.

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

The Weight of the Quiet: Parenting Without a Net

Happy Wednesday everyone. (Okay, I know it's Thursday, but this took me all day to write.) I hope y’all are holding that line the best way you can. Personally, we hit some major milestones for both me and the Gremlin so far this week that I would like to share with the class. After all, that’s what this blog is about. Balancing the good, bad and ugly of a Self-employed Indy Author and Stay at Home Parent with a dash of self-awareness others can relate too. So, without further fluff (LMAO) let's dive into this week's Juggling Chainsaws & Mental Health addition.

Everyone knows my mother was my rock, my ride or die, and most importantly the woman that held the line, so I could work 12 to 18hr days. She helped me raise the Gremlin from the time he came into this world and was the first one to stand toe to toe with anyone that called me a bad mother because I was working damn near around the damn clock. She kept me grounded, sane, and most importantly seen. Hell, she was the inspiration behind my first published main character, Rose. 

 She was the only person, until recently, I fully trusted with Ares. It wasn’t because she was perfect, but because she saw him for the amazing child he is. She knew what he needed, when he needed it. Mom never made him feel like he was broken or made me feel like I had to explain the invisible load I was carrying. Hell, she was a momma of three plus the friend groups that all called her Momma Red. 

But after her fall, not being inside these walls was an adjustment, I handled the best I could. Then, I completely lost her and became the solo captain of a ship I have never had to navigate by myself before. Sure, while momma was still alive, I’m the one that made all the decisions, did the shopping, handled the doctors' appointments, and cooked. But she was right there next to me or, in the last year of her life, a phone call away. She remembered the shit I would forget like toilet paper, dish tabs, or to pick up meds from CVS. 

The point is, Momma was the other half of my brain that I thought would always be there. She held the choke chain, that kept me in line, when I would openly debate doing something stupid. And now, let's just say, even with someone else in the room, I’m steering the ship through a hurricane trying to stay the course. Doesn’t help I have a broken compass, can’t see the stars, and most of the crew want to stage a mutiny. But we are surviving with a few cuss words, chicken nuggets, and a heavy hand of sass, defiance, and caffeine.

Which leads me into the big milestones, my Gremlin, yesterday, went to his very first pool party and hung out with his best friends. And wait for it… without me. Someone he’s really close to at school picked him up and took him over there. Which allowed me a few hours to get his room cleaned, along with other housework that I normally couldn’t get done without someone else keeping him distracted. 

Why is this such a big deal for both of us you might be asking yourself? See, I have very high anxiety about him being out of my sight for any length of time that isn’t school, and even then, if that bus is late in the afternoons, full blown panic attack. (Long story and maybe one day I will share the why, just know it’s a completely valid reason.) Which leads to my fear that no one else is watching him the way I do. No one has memorized the non-verbal cues, the sounds, the silences that mean something from a child that screeches. Let's face it, it’s not like I have some big backup system waiting in the wings if shit goes sideways for whatever reason.

So, with that being said, Lil man has never done sleep overs, play dates that weren’t at the park or our house, or anything a normal 9-year-old would have done at this point in his life. Because let's face it, I don’t trust a whole lot of people with my created chaos. Why because he is non-verbal and the world is a scary ass place for a normal child let alone one that can’t tell you something is wrong or happened. Safety is my number one priority when it comes to my child, and even when I know deep down, he is fine, that doesn’t stop me from watching him like a hawk. 

And let's face facts here…. People I trusted to be in his life, that I leaned on after mom passed, did me dirty. This left me jaded to the point where I see danger, when it's really people offering me help. A net, if you will, when I’ve been playing on a tight rope balancing thousands of pounds of responsibilities over shark infested waters. Which has left me hyper-aware, hyper-tired, hyper-functional, and my personal favorite just plan flipping HYPER. People call it paranoia. I call it being a mom to a kid who doesn’t understand danger. 

And here’s the kicker: when I do get a sliver of time to myself, when he’s safe and playing and I have even an hour to breathe. I feel guilty the whole damn time. Guilty for needing that minute. Guilty for wanting a break. Guilty that the only way I can get anything done (like cleaning a bathroom, folding the mountain of laundry, or even just sitting the hell down for five) is when someone else has eyes on him.

It’s not that I don’t love my child with every fiber of my being, but mommy needs a flipping break too. I need to recharge before I break, because I’m not the damn energizer bunny. Even if I have been described as a “one woman wrecking crew”, I can’t keep all the chainsaws in the air without help. So before the invisible weight starts to crack through, before the pieces I’m juggling come down in a bloody mess (I can’t recover from), and before I become the hollowed out husk just going through the day to day motions like a damn zombie, I need to take a good hard look at how I’m going to keep myself on this side of the dirt. 

I will always feel like someone, somewhere, is watching and judging me for what they won't take the time to understand. I have to be okay with that. I have to be okay with never matching up to those Pinterest-perfect, smiling, got-it-all-together mothers. Because I’ll I can be is me. Unfiltered, Tattooed, Anxiety driven, and highly caffeinated.

I miss having a net. I miss having someone who didn’t need the whole backstory to get it. I miss the person that would let me rant for 20 to 30 minutes straight and then ask me if I felt better. And now when My little Gremlin has hit a milestone we never thought would happen, I miss having someone to tell. Don’t get me wrong my crew, including his godparents, were over the moon at this development. It just hit me differently when I couldn’t hear her say how proud she was of her little bug. 

It’s also the last week before school starts.

Reset week. That magical time where everything’s supposed to fall into place, routines reestablished, backpacks restocked, meal plans organized, clothes rotated out, and the house… Well, it’s supposed to look like a home again instead of a crime scene full of summer clutter, half-finished projects, and the event bin I still have yet to unpack since Green Bay.

But here’s what no one tells you: Reset week isn’t a reset. It’s a full system reboot, and half the time, it crashes mid-update. Which also makes you reminds of how alone in this broken-down system you really are.

I'm trying. God knows I’m trying to get ahead and a handle on the madness. I’ve cleaned his room, his bathroom, and the hallway. I’ve washed, folded, wiped, and sorted. I’ve made lists, checked supplies, wrestled with emotions I didn’t ask to feel. But every time I cross something off, three more things get added, and I’m straight up ready to throw hands over someone not hanging up their wet towels. (Not the Gremlin)

And then there's the guilt again. Guilt that I’m rushing through the end of summer instead of soaking it up. Guilt that I’m yelling over laundry piles instead of reading books or making popsicles. Guilt that I’m treating time with my kid like a time slot on the to-do list because if I don’t stay on schedule, everything unravels worse than it already has. 

You’d think, after doing this enough times, I’d have it down. Every year feels like starting from scratch with different tools and fewer hands. Reset week isn’t calm. It’s just the storm you choose to meet head-on. Because let's face it… we don’t have a choice.

So, if you’ve made it this far into the post, thank you, and I’m sorry for it being so very long. Sometimes I feel like this is more word vomit, but I do walk away feeling better. I hope you walk away feeling seen, heard, or knowing someone else gets it. This shit is hard. Parenting at any stage is hard. Accepting help is the hardest of all. We both will have to learn how to do that one.

As we gear up for another school year, do understand, I’m right here in the trenches with you. This juggling act gets easier, and hopefully the guilt of enjoying a clean house for at least 7-8 hours a day will pass, when the bus shows back up to drop them off. For now,
though, enjoy the last few days if you can. Hug them close, because they won't be little or within eye shot forever.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

When The Quiet Is Too Loud

Good Morning Peps. How is everyone’s weekend going so far? Mine isn’t going bad per se but it's just at a state of “please for the love of” level. Gremlin has decided to make his war on sleep last until, now, 1:13 am. Which is currently why I’m sitting in my office and hubby is in there with him right now. I personally deal with this game of I don’t want to sleep all week, so on the rare not so rare as of late, occasion he’s home he has to deal with the situation. Since they are in our bedroom, I am in the only place that I can still keep an ear out if the Gremlin becomes too much to handle, the office.

Now at this point I have two options. Mindlessly scroll social media or sit here and do something half ass productive, because we all know that was not accomplished yesterday. I choose this. Why? I haven’t the foggiest, but it seems a lot better than watching and wading through videos. Especially since I’m in my feels right now. 

What has me in my feels right now, you might be asking? Well, that would be my lack of productivity at the given moment. See my dysfunction doesn’t just relate to my physical world. Even though it plays huge roles there. My dysfunction has seemed to seep into every facet of my world like an exploding pumpkin someone couldn’t bear to carve. Too many options/tasks, not enough support/ general help to get it done, or even the constant interruptions/ complaints while I’m trying to get it done, I’ll shut down faster than a car with bad sparkplugs. And that’s where I’m sitting at, now 1:33am, all fire and no spark.

See I have three or so major things coming up in my life, that as a Mom, I can’t just switch around. I have to prepare for the war the best I currently can. One is school. Two is reclaiming my house from not only the summer but from the two other humans that live within it that don’t seem to think it's important to help me keep it clean. And three is finding editing work for while the Gremlin is in school. Because honestly, I really don’t want to go back to driving for delivery services again. I mean I will if I have to but there is very little money in the running during the day. 

Now you add in, I have 6 currently active Works in Progress (that’s not all of them that’s just the ones I’m flipping between right now. The actual number is closer to 50ish.) You have an overworked mind, body and soul with no time to stop. I mean I could stop but the laundry is going to be ten times worse than it already is, and I swear it’s breeding like rabbits. The kitchen is going to look like a bigger battle zone that looks more like a bad game of Tetris or an expression of the leaning tower of Peza. That is just merely a few examples. 

By the time, I’m good to start my day and really hammer shit out. I’m in a state of competition between both house and work, work and child, and child and house. A vicious cycle that goes round and round until I have to throw my hands into the air, screaming for help. I get the typical “give me a minute” or “I was fixing too” or my personal favorite “Your home all day, the house shouldn’t look like this.” 

I would like to tell everyone one thing for certain. Having an autistic child is like having five, and you don’t know what version you got that day. Case in point: I left for Green Bay. I was gone for 5 days. Left out on Thursday came back on Monday. Now due to packing and dealing with the Gremlin wanting to be in the middle of everything I had enough time to pack and deal with small amounts of things Wednesday. 

I was promised upon my arrival back at the house the tree would be off the garage, Gremlin’s room would be cleaned, and the Livingroom/ dining room would be handled, along with the laundry…. Nothing was done. Not one ounce of shit had been done. If anything, the house was worse than when I left. His excuse…. Gremlin wasn’t letting him get things done, it was too hot (At the time we didn’t have AC), and it was just too much to expect one person to handle. 

Now I’ve been playing catch up. Which would be easier to handle if I could trust him to complete smaller tasks. Like taking Gremlin to play before or after the heat of the day, starting and finishing a task in the same day like the lawn or kitchen. He’s great at starting shit but takes forever to actually finish them… hence the reason I still have a tree on my garage. All of this leaves me holding the bag.

When you have so much going off in so many different directions, even the quiet seems to be screaming at you. Let’s face it and call it what it is. Guilt. Guilt that the house is a mess when you aren't the only one that lived to make it. Guilt of having to sit down at your computer to write the stories (that later hopefully turn into money) when you should be present for everything around you. The guilt of not enjoying the blessings you worked for, because the world keeps shouting, keeps grinding or, worse, acting like it meant nothing. Shit can get dark quick. 

And this is where my thoughts have left me this evening or morning. Sitting in the quiet wondering if I will ever be enough. The real kick in the ass is no one can answer that but me. Like no one can answer that but you. We are all struggling right now through polite smiles, “hangin' in there’s”, and darkness that seems to cloud all. We just don’t have it in us to fucking quit. We can’t. We hold the line each and every damn day, because it’s not that simple of a choice for us. 

So, the next time shit gets real, and even the quiet is too loud. Understand, I see you. I understand you are doing your damn best. Grace and mercy are what we give to others, but we need to save some for our damn selves. And sometimes a healthy dose of “IF YOU DON’T STOP (FILL IN BLANK) is necessary for understanding FAFO. I’m ending this at 2:24 am, in hopes of closing my eyes for a few hours before I have to get up and get some shit done. Breathe, it’ll be okay or at least okayish. If not, drop me an email and we can scream into the void together.

Be Brave, Be Bold, Always Stay Humble.

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.