#badassmom thoughts

Ain’t No Mama Like the One I Got

In honor of Mothers Day, I want to share just a wee bit about my mom. I have mentioned her in some of my previous posts, and will continue to mention and highlight her for as long as I walk this earth. She is the OG Mama Dee, and there just ain’t no mama like the one I got.

She is a freaking ray of sunshine that brings laughter, realness and hope to any room she enters. She exudes confidence and has really pretty pink hair.

My mom is my best friend in this whole wide world. No one else comes close to comparing to her level of commitment, dedication and support she has offered to me in this life.

It wasn’t always easy, I was a terror of a daughter- I tried so hard to push my family away. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. I held on tight to the idea I was right, and no one could tell me differently. My Mom never gave up. She never pushed me out the door. She let me fail. She loved me and showed up for me and never, ever shamed me or gave up on me.

My Mom is one of those #badassmoms. She taught me to be a leader. To be unapologetically me- to not conform or give in to shitty opinions and ideas, she ALWAYS encouraged me to find my own path. At times finding my own way has been difficult, lonely and uncomfortable. My Mom has always been by my side. Even when I fuck up, she’s here, ready to lift me up and try again. Ready to hold my hand and show me how adulting is done. Ready to care for my children when I need help. Ready to listen when I finally open up. She’s always here.

My Mom taught me a lot of things. Ever since I can remember my Mom has been the biggest Cleveland Browns fan I’ve ever met. Her loyalty to the team was somewhat concerning. My whole life I knew from September- December not to ask for shit on Sundays because she was usually in a bad mood due to a Browns loss. It never, ever stopped her from looking forward to the game, getting us all dressed in Browns gear and making a bunch of good football food. And they would lose. Year after year it happened. She taught me about loyalty. We don’t give up hope just because they’re losing.

Every week.

She taught me we love them for them- the bad, the unorganized, the comical, the sometimes surprisingly good. My Moms love is unconditional. I always knew her love for Cleveland football was unconditional, and as I came to realize her faithfulness stretches across the board.

My Mom is loyal AF. Like road dawgs, ride or die she is in it til the wheels fall off and roll away. She has been married to my Dad for 27 years. The shit I’ve seen them go though (put them through) are things I, myself cannot imagine experiencing as a parent. My brother and I have experienced some pretty tough events, and my Mom (and Dad) were there through it all. They always show up.

My Mom not only shows up for me- but her friends. Her love for her people is something I admire, she has so many strong women in her life that support her, that share with her and love her as much as she loves them.

When I told my Mom I was pregnant, I was single at the age of 19. I lived with my parents still, and lived a carefree lifestyle, I was not exactly ready for a baby. Her response was “I’m too young to be a grandma.” I smile when I think about the conversation, because I can picture it perfectly, although it was 8 years ago.

This is the shit she used to dress us in.

We were in my old room. I wish I had a picture, but I’ll briefly describe it for you. It was about 11′ x12′. There was old wood paneling that had been painted over. Each panel was a different bright color. The ceiling had tile on it, and each tile was a different color.

Walking into my old room would give anyone anxiety, it felt like walking into a circus tent. There were “plants” drawn on the walls and at one point I drew the Cleveland skyline with dollar signs raining down in the sky. It was absolutely nuts. But that’s the point. My Mom let me express myself no matter how completely ridiculous I was. She wanted me to find my own path.

Back to her being a Grandma. I lived with my parents at the time. My cat (RIP Action MF Jackson ILYSM) was my best friend. My Mom was there for me, and came to every doctor appointment I asked her to. She was there when I got the news I was having a boy- we cried tears of joy together that I was not going to have a miniature female version of myself. My parents remodeled their house so that I could be comfortable with my new baby. They ripped out that wood paneling and she gave me an adult room, and a nursery for their new grandson.

My Mom was the one standing next to me, holding my hand as I brought my baby into this world. The word Grandma was a bit harsh for her, as she was (is) still a young, hot, 40something year old. We went with Bia. As in BIA BIAAAAAA. Yes, the Lil John song. Whatever, hate on it or don’t. But my Bia rocks. She is the fucking sun in my life.

I have seen her work through her own troubles, heartaches and come out on the other side stronger, wiser and more beautiful than ever before.

A couple years ago, my Mom and I went skydiving. She gets queasy standing on the second story of a balcony, but this B jumped out of a plane at 9,000 feet. We did it together, I was super hyped and into it, she was like really scared and second guessing herself. But she did it. We did it. She’s such a badass I can’t say it enough.

When I think of strong women- I think my mom. When I think of bad bitches- I think my Mom. When I think of cool sock collections- I think of my Mom. When I think of unconditional love- I think of my Mom. When I think of orange converse- I think my mom.

She is what I aspire to be as a mother. Loyal, loving and hopeful. If I can show up for, and support my kids the way my Mom has, and continues to do for me- I have no doubt I will be one of those #badassmoms like her. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Not only on the inside, but the outside too. I look just like her and people often mistake us for sisters. She is so pretty and I look JUST like her 🙂

Sometimes I hear other people talk about their Moms, and I feel so blessed that My Mom is mine. And she’s my best friend. And shes the best Bia ever. And shes cool AF. And shes probably crying reading this.

I love my Mom more than I can type in this post, but I wanted to share with the whole internet world just how much she means to me, and how grateful I am that I have the Mom of the Year.

She used to joke when she made a mistake saying, “I guess there goes my Mom of the year award.” which is funny, because she fucked up a lot. I get my potty mouth from my Mom. I get my stubbornness from my Mom. I get my perpetual lateness from my Mom. I am super sassy because of my Mom. But she also gave me some really positive things.

She fucked up giving us these haircuts.

I get my sense of humor from my Mom. I get my IDGAF attitude from my Mom. I get my love of thrifting and style from my Mom. I got this good hair from my Mom. Most of all- I have an internal feeling of hope, from my Mom.

I have watched this woman for the last 27 years overcome everything and come out stronger, smarter and more willing to follow the paths the Universe lays out for her. She is a freakin superhero and this year I give her the highly sought after Mother of the Year Award.


Cheesecake: Is it a cake, or do you consider it pie?

This is an extremely important blog post for many reasons. If you think you know the answer, then great- run along. Let us critical thinkers draw this one way out.

Is Cheesecake cake or pie?

Let me preface this post as being brought about by a facebook poll a friend (lets call him Dave) posted. It was like 8 am when I scrolled across this poll asking the question none of us really want to be asked: is cheesecake a cake or a pie?

I like to dissect everything, and often put more thought than neccesary into such baffling questions.

At first you say- cake! It’s in the name. It’s a fricken cheeseCAKE. Sure, but I like to overthink everything. So, I say- pie! Pies have crust and cheesecake has crust, so it’s actually pie. My head got to spinning and I took a trip to my counselor to discuss my life and why I put so much emotion and effort into every thought that crosses my mind. Including this dreaded question- is cheesecake even a cake at all?

I don’t want to make huge decisions like clarify whether I place beloved cheesecake in the cake or pie category. Yet, here I am, neglecting my adult responsibilities and writing my dreaded opinion on the internet. This afternoon I got to researching. Call me crazy, but I think I’ve found the answer.

What makes a cake a cake?


taken from Merriam- Webster dictionary


a: a breadlike food made from a dough or batter that is usually fried or baked in small flat shapes and is often unleavened

b: a sweet baked food made from a dough or thick batter usually containing flour and sugar and often shortening, eggs, and a raising agent (such as baking powder)

c: a flattened usually round mass of food that is baked or fried

Who’s to say bread is not cake. Or biscuits. Do you think if you made banana bread and covered it in frosting people would not mistake it for cake? Cheesecake is unlike bread and biscuits.

I love cake, you can tell by looking at my body type that I know what I’m talking about. In my very long (27 years) cake eating experience I’m gonna just say cake, biscuits and bread *can* have similar textures. Cheesecake is the outlier here.

What makes a pie a pie?


taken from the Merriam Webster dictionary


a. a dessert consisting of a filling (as of fruit or custard) in a pastry shell or topped with pastry or both

b.a meat dish baked with biscuit or pastry crust

Ok, here we are seemingly frustrated, again. Not exactly describing cheesecake. As I was researching, many articles made mention of pies having a crust on top. The only pies to be accepted into the British Pie Awards are those with crust on top.

But then I think, what about pumpkin pie? Or lemon meringue pie, or chocolate pie? Where do these delicious desserts fit in? We cannot exclude them, for they meet all other pie requirements besides having no top crust.

This is where I stand- Cheesecake is pie.


I don’t care what you say- if you disagree, you are wrong. You probably think DQ ice cream cake is a “cake” too, don’t you? Well it’s not. It’s absolutely delicious, and one of my all time favorite treats- but it’s not a cake at all.

Cheesecake lives in the pie family. It is more like pie than it is cake. If you agree, leave your validation and congratulations on solving the heated debate in the comments below. If you disagree, then get the F off my page.

See my latest posts:


IPSY Glam Bag Review- April 2019

This post may contain afflilate links. Meaning, at no additional cost to you, if you click through and make a purchase, I may make a small commission. Thanks for you your support. XO

5 sample size beauty products delivered to my door in a shiny pink package for 10 bucks. What did they send me, and was it worth it?

Quick note: I wrote this IPSY GLAM BAG review in the afternoon, before I had the chance to take pictures of my products. I had them on the table next to my computer, and my 2 year old wanted pb &j, so I went to the kitchen to make him that. I came back to see that he had DESTROYED my really pretty eyeshadow and smeared it all over his underwear (because we don’t wear pants unless we’re going in public) and the couch. He ruined my product, but I guess it makes for a better story. Here’s my IPSY review.



APRIL 2019

In the past month, I’ve been doing a super unhealthy thing- impulse online shopping. I’m looking at my credit card statement like WTF. I usually don’t spend money like this. But the online game got me, free trials, introductory trial prices and monthly subscriptions. I also always shop through a cashback site such as TopCashBack or Ebates to save more when available.

One of the subscriptions I wasn’t so mad about was the IPSY makeup bag. I received 5 trial size samples of makeup and skincare products- and I’m gonna share my honest review with you- not sponsored, not paid, and no one really cares. But here it is.

I have been seeing IPSY on my feed more and more lately, people sharing pretty photos on instagram with rose petals and champagne in the background- completely unnecessary, but I suppose it works for them. The products are typically higher end brands we like and love, so I peeped the IPSY website to investigate the hype.

What’s up with IPSY?

The website is easy to navigate, and shows a lot of brands they send out in the glam bags. There is a long survey you do before signing up for your bag- and you can customize how often you want to receive certain products. So, as someone who is pretty picky about perfume, I chose to receive perfume samples less often, and as someone who is willing to try any and every mascara- I chose to receive those samples more often. Get it? I also got to customize my preferred shades of blush, eye shadow and lip gloss. I was able to share what my skin type is for facial care products, stuff like that.

What’s in the bag?

The Lemon Bag

I like makeup bags, but really how many do you need? I like this one, because it has a nice lining on the inside that will protect anything else in my suitcase if something spills or leaks, and a zipper to keep things secure. The lemons are cute, although I prefer limes.

makeup bag with lemons on it. Pink shiny package it arrived in.
I like dem Georgia peaches- but you look more like a lemon.

Peach Punch Sweet Foam Cleanser by TONYMOLY

I’ll admit-new facial cleansers freak me out, as I have had breakouts in reaction to trying new things. So I hesitated, and opened this anyways to smell- holy shit, it smells exactly like peach sweet tea. Like extremely good- I was willing to give it a shot. It’s lightweight, and formulated with peach extract and olive oil, and made my skin feel really nice. It’s a keeper.

sample size peach face wash
Look at that peach.

Berry + Juice Vegan Lip Gel in Rose Currant by SERAPHINE BOTANICALS

I’m not a huge fan of lip gloss, I feel like my lips are big and I am always battling chapped lips so drawing attention to them is usually not something I’m in to. So, I was not excited to see lip gloss, especially this super glassy, gel textured one. It’s different than any other lip gloss I have purchased in the last 10 years, I usually go for lip gloss with natural hues and minimal reflect. I tried it, it’s really shiny and reminds me of being 12 with my really glossy lipSmackers singing that Lil Mama song. I guess I’ll keep it, it seems high quality. Maybe I’ll wear it on days where I want a little more color and a lot more shine on my lips.

vegan lipgloss in rose currant color. Floral packaging
Even lipgloss lets you know when it’s totally vegan.

Moods Eyeshadow in Rose Gold Woman by LAURA SANCHEZ

I like this. As a hairstylist I’m supposed to do myself up and wear pretty makeup and take pride in my appearance. As a mom of 3 boys I rarely get time to do that. This eyeshadow got me excited, it’s a highly pigmented metallic, with pinky-rose gold hues, goes on creamy and blends well, the quality is v good. I will definitely be wearing this on a regular basis because it made me feel pretty and made the green in my eyes pop.

mood eyeshadow that is almost gone
Here is is [was]. The super pretty eyeshadow that is smeared all over my couch. My kid is sneaky and fucked it all up for me. I still love him, and I still love this eyeshadow. You better believe I’m gonna scrape what I can out of those edges.

Double Duty Beauty Base Tape Hydrating Primer by TARTE

Say that 3 times fast. I am familiar with Tarte, and I have a few products from them that I like, so I was pleased to see a familiar brand. I also love hydrating primer because it really does help my makeup last. This is a little more sticky than any other primer I have tested, but I think I like it. It smells like coconut and comes out in a thick milky consistency which adds to the pleasant experience. It felt good on my face and helped my makeup look bangin- so I’m gonna go with it.

base tape makeup primer sample. Blue cap, white bottle
You knmow it’s fancy because it has a mirror on the cap.

Rodeo Drive Highlighter by OFRA COSMETICS

I can’t tell you how many highlighters I have purchased, professional brands and drugstore brands- just to feel like they’re either not shiny enough, or too fucking bright and I look like a [really shiny] clown. There was no expectation while opening this product, as I have been let down before. I feel the quality is good, and I like the reflect it gave my skin. It’s just that- a highlighter, and it has a pretty soft golden glow that I think is gonna look really good with a sun kissed tan. I will definitely be trashing at least 3 of my old highlighters to be replaced with this new one. And it’s a huge size so I absolutely see it lasting all summer, and I’m happy.

makeup highlighter compact
It’s a nice size and I’m just really glad my kids didn’t break this too.

IPSY customization

I appreciate how customizable the service has become, and I was really looking forward to getting my first bag. I like that the monthly financial commitment is low, and for 10 bucks a month not only do I get 5 trial sized products, I may find something I absolutely love.

IPSY allows you to customize things like shades you love and skin type, along with how often you want to receive your glam bag. You can do every month or skip months and even add on products for a special discount. The website has a lot of options, so I definitely recommend checking it out. Shipping is included in the $10 a month. I mean, 5 beauty products AND free shipping!? Thats a snag.

Will I continue my IPSY subscription?

Yes I am. The overall experience of setting my preferences and profile was easy, and I felt like I was able to share enough about what I like and dislike to be sent things I would actually purchase. The value of the bag is worth way more than the 10 bucks it cost me, and I got some sweet products I may actually purchase in the future.

I have included my referral link if you are looking to try the IPSY glam bag yourself.

I’d love to hear what you guys think about the IPSY subscription bag, do you subscribe, and is it worth it in your opinion? What are your favorite products you have been introduced to through the IPSY bag? What the heck do you do with all of these extra makeup bags!?

ipsy review. black backroung, purple text

Where I’ve been. To blog or not to blog.

I haven’t posted in a while, I’m not sure why. Lack of inspiration? Fear of judgement? Chaotic days that roll in to each other and no motivation to do anything more. Maybe I’m just batshit crazy and start a bunch of things never to follow through with them.

A few people have asked me if I’m still doing this, the answer is yes, I actually discovered writing is a fun creative outlet for me, yet the time and motivation does not come as easily.

It’s been a long two months, full of pee and vomit, a trip to Vegas, ending my breastfeeding journey, my work as a hairstylist has been busier than ever before, my baby started crawling and has 2 teeth, and the death of someone who has impacted my life more than he ever knew.

Opinions are annoying- but I want you to read mine.

Organizing my thoughts is sometimes a difficult task, as I am perplexed as to how I actually feel most of the time. I’m extremely indecisive when it comes to forming my own opinions, and I realized that that’s basically what blogging is- forming opinions and sharing them with the whole world wide web in text form. Opinions are like assholes, and yes, we all have them, and most of them stink.

There are days I feel like I’ve really got it going on- like yesterday. I joined the IPSY makeup subscription and received my first glam bag, full of fun new makeup that I most likely would not have purchased myself. As I was getting ready for work, I used each of the 5 things they sent me. As I finished my makeup I realized I hadn’t put a whole face on in quite sometime- and I felt pretty. I even busted out my giant hoop earrings because I just DGAF.

Kevin noticed me coming out of the bathroom, looking all fly and shizz and mentioned how I must be feeling myself because I had makeup on and my fancy unnecessarily large hoops in.

These are going to be referred to as “the pee days”

I feel like the past 2 months have dragged on, and I’ve just been barely getting by. My laundry mountain has peaked several times, I’ve been in this disgusting cycle of cleaning piss, shit, vomit, more piss, cracked raw eggs on my carpet (4 times!), more piss, more shit, more fucking vomit. These days are hard, and I’m just going to refer to them as the “pee days.” I know this is just a “season,” it won’t always be this hard, or smell this bad, and I won’t always second guess every decision I make regarding my discipline style, or lack there of.

I clean just to have to clean again. I scrub the bathroom floor just to have my kid miss the toilet and have to do it over again. I say no milk in the car just to give my kid milk in the car and him pour it all over the window. I’m fighting a constant battle that I feel I’m slowly losing.

My 2 year old discovered a new hobby- throwing raw eggs on the carpet. That was fun. He did it 4 times in 1 week. Then when he was in time out he would stare me in the eyes while peeing on the time out rug. Super fun. I’m guessing he is an alpha, confident in his behavior, basically fearless, and trying to figure out his place in the world. But it also causes me extreme frustration. I’m not gonna “beat that ass” because I’m just not fucking going to, and I don’t think it’s beneficial. I don’t want my kid to be afraid of me- I am his mom and his protector, here to nurture and love and guide him through life. I feel like I’m constantly searching for a discipline method that works for us, and respects our values. I will say we have not had an egg-cident (see what I did there) in a week and a half so that’s good.


We have started doing this funny thing while my kids are whining about how they like Cinnamon Toast Crunch better than the generic Aldi version where I yell back “Gabagoool” or “Shmargendardon” or some other random nonsense. My fiance and I think this is funny and it provides comic relief to the ridiculous complaining and screaming.

This parenting thing is hard, this relationship thing is hard, this friendship thing is hard. All of this adulting that we do is really fucking hard. I know everyone is out here, trying their best, all of us just became grown ups one day. I can’t believe I wanted to grow up so bad, and now my 7 year old is constantly telling me how he wants to be a grown-up and I’m so sad for him. He has no clue the freedom he has being a child. To him it feels like he has none- can’t walk to the park alone, can’t watch tv all night, can’t have a cell phone. I remember those days, and the absolute terror that I was to my parents, and I reflect on that trying to develop my own parenting strategies.

Being a mom in todays technologically advanced world, scared my kid is gonna get abducted, hit by a car or bullied is tough. I want my kids to enjoy childhood and actually enjoy being a child. When I was 13 I wanted nothing more than to be an adult, I wanted to do things grown ups did, and I did just that, I started acting like a grown-up, without all of the responsibility that adults actually had.

I’m now 27 and have 3 kids, I’m forever engaged to someone I love so dearly, but am constantly complaining to him because I’m not where I wanna be in life. I want to plan a wedding but it seems too hard. I want to buy a house, our house is small and we rent and it’s frustrating to feel so close to buying, but so fucking far away– we’re almost financially ready, we have built our credit over the last 3 years, we’re adulting in a lot of adultish areas, and trying to make decisions that benefit our family. I work on the east side and my family is here, he works on the west side and his family is there. The school districts in the middle either suck, or the area is too expensive for us currently. These stressors are something I didn’t even know about until I got to this stage of life.

I imagine that’s how the rest of my adulthood is going to go- not knowing how hard it is until we get there.

How do you make time for your relationship when your partner works 80 hours a week, and your kids pee everywhere, and you’re wiping butts all day long, and then when he gets home- dinner was 4 hours ago and the kids have been screaming all day and you didn’t even change out of your pajamas? Asking for a friend.

Really though, I am asking for myself, because this shit is hard, and the last couple months have been challenging in just about every area of my life. I want to take me time, I want to take time to care for myself- ya know, shower, laundry, quiet time for reflection. I know, these struggles are super tiny in the eyes of big problems- war, death, family tragedies, but in the moment when we are experiencing it- they feel big, and that’s why I am sharing. Mostly because I don’t talk to a lot of people, I am introverted to the extreme and don’t feel comfortable reaching out most days, I typically go at it alone because it’s what I’ve always been comfortable with.

My fiances best friend passed away unexpectedly a couple weeks ago- it was devastating. This man was charismatic and charming, and loved his friends so much. He was there for my fiance when he needed it most, and left an impact on the way he carried himself, and for that I am so, so grateful. When he died, I have never ever seen my fiance so sad, he was heartbroken and I didn’t know how to comfort him. I’ve never lost a close friend, I can’t pretend I know how it feels. A few of my friends reached out to me, and I am so thankful- they care about my family, and they care about me.

It is pretty obvious to me that my fiances friends care about him- his phone is always ringing, group texts, whatever. He’s had a lot of the same friends for over 10 years, he’s social and charming and really intelligent. He’s good at being a friend. He cares and is always willing to help people when they need it. It’s part of the reason I was so attracted to him. To witness him grieving is heartbreaking. I know it hurts. I know he has so much on his plate, and to top it all off he deals with me and my irrational outbursts or crying, screaming and being a nutcase.


I don’t want to be the way that I am, I joke with him that if he thinks I’m annoying, he should just be happy he’s not stuck in my head. But it’s really not a joke, there’s so much crap I filter through, unsure of what to say, what to do, how to feel, how to act- I get it all jumbled up and sometimes melt down. I think that’s what I noticed when I was actively writing- it took a bit of that away.

I’m gonna keep blogging, sometimes about dumb stuff like how I save money, because I get really excited about saving a few bucks on things I was already planning on buying ( I am my fathers daughter,) or thrifting (I am my mothers daughter) and maybe more “dear diary” posts like this one- because it feels good to get my thoughts out, and put them somewhere.

I’m gonna continue this adult journey with as much patience as I can possibly muster up. It’s not coming easy, and a lot of days I feel like I am failing. I don’t want to live life by “just getting by,” I want the things I do to serve a purpose, and produce positive results, I don’t want to second guess every fucking thing I do because of fear. I don’t want to constantly yell at my kids because they’re just being kids. I want to share love and live with passion. I want to be grateful, and be subconsciously aware that these are the “good old days” and while they’re hard (and covered in piss) they’re also really sweet and my kids are the cutest and they are loved so, so much.

So I guess I’ll just keep climbing Mt. Laundrypile and buying vinegar in bulk to keep funk at bay. I’ll do my best to remain calm, and continue to hug my kids and smell their hair. I’ll let my partner know I love him and appreciate him, even when he leaves dirty socks on the floor. I’ll make a point to get my kids outside each day as the weather is warming up, and I’ll continue schooling them in hide-and-seek. I’m gonna let my friends and family know I love them, because we really never know what the future holds- and what the fuck is actually holding me back from expressing appreciation to those that are always there no matter what?

There is hope in the Spring

The sunset gets prettier, the air feels better, and gratitude seems easier to come by. I will do my best to live in this mindset more often. Things aren’t as bad as they feel, and I truly believe there is always hope.

And as always, I’m gonna continue being weird and unapologetically me– for there is no one else I’d rather be. (except maybe Beyonce before she married Jay-Z.)

What’s been up with you dudes?

Do you have any tips on adulting that I can benefit from? Or any tips how to get raw egg or vomit stains out of carpet? Or how about keeping giant carpenter ants out of your house?

Seriously, leave me a comment and share with me your best adulting advice!

#badassmom thoughts

Hugging Meditation: Give a meaningful hug

Today, I will remind myself, and you of nice little meditation that is simple, effective, and only takes a few moments. Hugging meditation, made famous by Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, is rooted in the belief that a good hug can have transformative effects, making us happier.

Disclaimer: This post may contain affiliate links. Meaning, if you click through and make a purchase, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

Have you felt the deep connection a hug can spark? Try this hugging meditation.

I know, you already know how to hug, but do you fully experience the moment you are embraced with someone? Your child or your partner, your mother or father?

I was introduced to this meditation a couple years ago by my partner, he has a large collection of meditation books, and one of his favorite authors is Thich Nhat Hanh. We practice this hugging meditation on a pretty regular basis during times of chaos and of pure joy. There’s always time for a hug.

The first time we practiced this, I’ll admit it was a bit odd. Not unpleasant at all, it was just different. Here’s how it went.

When he approached me for a hug, I gladly embraced, but something was different. He didn’t let go. I felt the strong, yet gentle embrace of someone I loved. His chest was slowly taking deep breaths that my own chest started to mimic. I felt warmth and gratitude for the moment I didn’t even know was purposeful. When we parted, we were both calm, sharing how good a mindful hug can feel, if only for 3 deep breaths. It truly was a deep, intimate, relaxed feeling.

If you want to try this at home with your loved ones, here’s how.

It is suggested that before the embrace, we take a few deep breaths to ourself, to fully center us and be in the present moment. We embrace, and hold the other person in our arms for three deep breaths.

It’s recommended that the first breath should be dedicated to you honoring your presence in the moment. The second breath should honor the other person, while the final breath should be focused on feeling happy and grateful for your togetherness.

This is a small, powerful way to connect, and bring forth happiness, gratitude, and focus.

I practice this with my children on a daily basis, once I read we should never be the first to let go in a hug with our children, for they are seeking comfort and warmth when we are embraced. To be fully present in the moment we are wrapped up with our children is such a beautiful thing. I love this, and I always hold on a little longer.

Now get out there and give all the hugs! Who knows, you may find something like serendipity while you’re at it.

Here are a few of our other favorite meditation books, Notes From The Song of Life being my absolute favorite book I’ve ever picked up.

hugging meditation, giving a meaningful embrace

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I Just Wanted to start.

I just wanted to start doing something.

I wanted to start doing something meaningful.

I wanted to start doing something that sparked joy.

I wanted to start doing something I felt mattered.

I just wanted to start doing.

I wanted to start being mindful.

I wanted to start being tidy.

I wanted to start communicating effectively.

I just wanted to start.

I started to be mindful.

I started to be tidy.

I started to communicate with intention.

I started to quiet self-doubt.

I started to express myself without fear of judgement.

I realized if I want to start.

I just fucking start.


LET IT GO- A poem for your sock basket.

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Why do you hold on to a fragment of hope, waiting,

knowing deep down inside it’s gone?

Why do you cling to the unsoiled fabric that once was,

knowing deep down inside it’s gone?

Why do you sift through the memories,

thinking where it could be,

but deep down inside

you know

it’s gone.

Why do you hoard and you stash, only to be let down


day after day.

Why do you you carry the weight in the basket, dropping bits

scrambling to pick them back up

and harbor them until another day.

You grasp at a possible prospect,

knowing the truth.

why do you insist that one day in the near future a match will be made?

because deep down inside

you know it won’t.

And the only thing left to do is

let it go.

A poem for the mismatch sock basket.
Today I will let it go.

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Pregnancy and Labor: epidurals, an induction, and delivering my own baby in the car.

Yes, I have a baby that I pushed right out on the front seat of my dads pickup truck. My advice, LISTEN TO YOUR BODY, WOMAN!

Babies. I love babies. I am convinced that my Facebook knows this and is constantly popping up birthing videos on my feed. I have zero self control and always go down a rabbit hole of beautiful, intimate birth moments. I can literally feel my body rejecting my IUD as I watch.

The moment a baby is born is the most beautiful moment I have ever had the opportunity to experience, and I’ve been lucky enough to have 3, all different and beautiful in their own way. People are always amused when they hear I delivered my own baby in a car.

My first pregnancy was unplanned and scary. I was 19 and single. I was a wild girl with a couple boyfriends and no real responsibility. When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. I had never even held a baby let alone loved anyone other than myself.

My pregnancy was lonely, my best friend was my cat, Action MF Jackson (RIP I love you so much.) I spent most of my time in bed watching The Office and conspiracy documentaries while eating gigantic bowls of cereal.

My mom was my best support, loving me and going to appointments with me, excited for the birth of her first grandson (even though she was too young to be a grandma.) We cried tears of joy together at the 20 week anatomy scan when we found out I was having a boy. Thank you God I will not have to deal with a teenage daughter like myself. Yet, my whole pregnancy I had a hard time connecting with my unborn baby, it didn’t feel real, I felt like there was an alien in there rolling around, making my mind crazy. I felt like I shouldn’t feel that way, I was supposed to already love this tiny baby I didn’t even know, it made me feel bad that it was not natural for me.

I went into labor two weeks early. My first epidural experience was fine, nothing bad happened but it didn’t exactly work. It eased the pain for about an hour until it was time to push.

There was a moment about an hour into pushing where I wanted to give up, it was too hard and hurt too much. It was a little late for that. Before my last push I reached down and felt his hair, his tiny body still inside mine, holyfuckingshit he is a real baby, its a real little person with a real human head (a very furry one.) I grew a baby and I pushed him out. In one moment I fell in love. That was 7 years ago and I still remember the day and the way the room was dim, the sound my baby made when he immediately started sucking on his fingers. The feeling of hope and love and a bit of fear I had that day.

Pregnancy number two came 4 years later, you could say I was living my #bestlife having fallen in love with a man who loved me and my son, we had our own place, we went on adventures and traveled around the country on frequent vacations (ehhh selling tshirts on phish tour.) Our life felt perfect, and I loved my son, I loved my boyfriend and I really loved our life. I concieved my second baby about an hour before a Dead & Co. show, probably TMI but I don’t really care. I think its cool to know that as my fertilized egg started to split and divide and grow I was there with John Mayer singing ‘brown-eyed women’ while I danced with the love of my life.

When I read the positive result I was overcome with fear, my 4 year old son was so perfect that I truly felt I could never love anyone as much as I loved him. I told my boyfriend over the phone, I broke down in tears and didn’t know how to feel. I’ll never ever forget how he came home, walked in to the house with flowers and big eyes and a smile, and came to squeeze me tight. He knew we would be ok, it was something like serendipity.

About a month after I found out I was pregnant we went on vacation to Mexico. It had been planned for months, just the two of us- on the beach, relaxing, exploring and of course dancing in the ocean. A couple days into our trip I came across a warning urging pregnant women not to visit Mexico. Well fuck, I was pregnant and in Mexico. The concern was the Zika virus, carried by mosquitos and very dangerous to babies growing in their mothers womb. At this point in our trip I had about 22 mosquito bites on my legs and ankles and anxiety struck again. I was terrified I would contract zika and possibly infect my baby.

On that vacation he proposed, I honestly had no fucking idea he was gonna do it. I mean, yes I knew we were going to get married and grow old together and I would never ever let him leave me, but we hadn’t even looked at rings! I was shocked when he got down on one knee on the beach, I of course said yes, knowing with every ounce of my being that the universe had shifted to get us here, and we were in it together, now with the promise of forever.

This pregnancy presented its own difficulties, I had a real fear that there was no way I would love another baby as much as I loved my first. It sounds crazy, but it was real in my mind.

The day before my due date I started experiencing what felt like real contractions- they were pretty steady and frequent, and increasingly became uncomfortable. I called the nurse line for L&D and they advised me to come in when my contractions were about 5 minutes apart for an hour. Ok, fine. I called my fiance and told him we were gonna have a baby, but take his time coming home because it would be a few hours. I called my dad to come pick my son up so I could head straight to the hospital when my fiance’ got there.

My dad got to my house to pick up my kid, I asked him to stay with me for a little bit, I was getting very uncomfortable with contractions being about 7 minutes apart and very strong. In a matter of about 30 minutes they had jumped to every 3 or 4 minutes and were almost unbearable, I told my dad he would have to drive me to the hospital and I would have Kevin meet us there. This baby was coming.

My dad got my son and I loaded into his pickup truck and drove really fast as I screamed in pain next to him (I love my dad so much, he was trying so hard to help me remember to breathe and keep me calm.) Five minutes into our drive my water broke, it scared the shit out of me because there was no internal warning it was going to happen, I swear I heard it POP, and it terrified me. The next thing that happened was a moment I consider the single most badass thing I’ve ever done.

I pushed him out right there in the front of my dads pickup truck. I delivered my own baby in the car. I had heard of women not making it to the hospital and pulling over on the side of the road and plopping it out, but I never imagined it would be my story. I thought I knew my body, and the nurse on the phone said I had time.

I was holding my baby in my arms, so scared, and so relieved. My dad was scared but calm. The baby was crying and we pulled over into a parking lot where he immediately called 911. My 4 year old was in the back seat shouting I WANNA SEE!

The ambulance got there very quickly, they came and cut the umbilical cord right where I was sitting, and immediately transferred him into a foil blanket to make him warm, he for real was a baby burrito. The paramedics handed my dad a few paper towels to clean up the mess.

I remember staring at him while in the ambulance, taking in his scent and feeling so full. I felt like an animal, I was made to do this, and my confidence was soaring. I recovered from that birth in like 2 days, minimal pain and no tearing.

I was convinced that if I ever had another baby that I would want a water birth or something minimally medical. Seriously, how do I top that experience?

When I found out I was pregnant with number three, I was in a weird funk of depression that all of the sudden made sense, pregnancy hormones do that to me. I had a pretty normal pregnancy- super sick and dehydrated, energy level at zero, all the typical first trimester stuff. I experienced my first kidney stone, where I literally thought I may be dying, I am so sorry for people who experience them regularly.

At an anatomy scan we found out our baby had only one kidney, I didn’t know what that meant or what to do, or was it my fault? Did I absorb it and turn it into my kidney stone? I still don’t know why it happened, but the doctor told us he would probably be fine.

Hearing my baby had a birth birth defect was one of the most terrifying, confusing moments of my life. It was completely out of my control, I felt like I had done something wrong. I had to trust the process and know that whatever challenges would be presented, we would work it out together, as a family.

At about 32 weeks at another ultrasound it was discovered I had polyhydramnios, which is basically a buildup of amniotic fluid. It could be harmless, but could present issues if my water broke on its own, the umbilical cord could come out before the baby and cause alot of issues. Well, fuck, my water broke with vengeance the prior pregnancy and I was scared. They wanted to closely monitor, so I had to go for an ultrasound weekly to make sure he was ok in there.

The medical team I worked with decided it was best to induce a week before my due date, with my history of rapid delivery and all this fluid.

I was induced and labor took a while for me, compared to my previous births. When it was go-time, it took three good pushes. The NICU doctors were present in the delivery room and quickly assessed that he was ok. They handed me my new baby boy and all felt right, our family was complete.

It still blows my mind I have three beautiful, healthy boys. For anyone fearing pregnancy or labor- just know your body is strong and beautiful, and biologically made to experience it.

Yours will most likely be different than your mothers, sisters and friends. Every pregnancy and delivery is different and special and beautiful in its own way.

Trust your partner. Trust your medical team. Most importantly, trust yourself.