Tag Archives: parenting

17. What is your family like? Personalities, strengths, weaknesses, etc.


Ah, I’ll start with my blood, my actual family.

Family has been on my mind a lot lately. I am an only child, and growing up, I often felt very loved by my mom and dad.

And then, the summer I turned 16, my dad filed for divorce and left me and my mom.

My parents had been married for 19 years.

When my dad left, there was no court-ruled visitation. Since I could drive, I drove the 2 hours to see him on weekends when I wasn’t working. Within one year, my dad was married to a woman who was in it for money.

A year after that, my dad was divorced again.

The relationship between my dad and I has, for the most part, been good on the surface. But there have been underlying control issues that I’ve pushed under the rug for years.

And on Thanksgiving Day, that rug was peeled back when my dad blew up at me for not replying a text message within one hour.

Currently, my dad and I aren’t speaking. I’ve spent the weeks since Thanksgiving wondering what I did to make my dad hate me—his only child—so much that he can’t even see my face or speak to me.

But I don’t know if that’s something I’m meant to understand.

The relationship with my mom is good. We are closer than ever. But it has not come easy—we went our own year without speaking, and it was one of the most difficult times in my life.

There are times when I have to remind myself that your “family” doesn’t have to be relatives. And although my relatives do have strengths, I often consider my friends to be my family, because that’s really all I have.


I too come from a broken family. My parents divorced when I was 6.  To this day I still don’t know the whole story of why my parents  got divorced and I don’t care to because I think it would make me hate my Dad. 

My Dad and I weren’t close until he started dating his current wife (I was 19 or 20).  I hated his second wife, her son, and going to their house.  I thought my Dad had anger issues, and I think he did until he divorced her.  When I was little and in my teenage years my Dad made me do all the things he loved, like ride horses and play on go karts.  <— How terrible, right? I’m such a brat. Now I am super close with my Dad, I can talk to him [and my Stepmom] about anything.

My Mom and I have always been close in the sense that we hang out a lot.  But I have never been that open with her about my feelings because I always thought she wouldn’t understand, as I get older that is changing.  My Mom raised me as a single parent and brought me up in a “tough-love” kind of household where I usually got whatever I wanted.  Does that make sense? She’s a very strong woman and is honestly probably one of the best people I know.  She is the type of person that really would do anything for anyone.

I’m lucky enough to have 2 parents that help me and are very supportive of everything I do.  But like Lucky, my friends are my family too and those are the people that I feel know me the best.

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11.Describe what you think your life will be like in 5,10 & 20 years.


GAH. This is so scary to me.

Part of me feels like so much happens in a year, so it’s so difficult to predict, but then again, I’ve had my same job for close to 6 years (wow, that was hard to type) and I’m still single after 12 years of dating, so…

In five years, I’d say it’s still possibly likely that I’ll be at this job because I have very little motivation. Perhaps I’ll live in a different place, have different friends, maybe I’ll meet a guy (ha. ha. ha.), but I don’t see any DRASTIC changes…

Ten years? Shit. I hope I’m not still single. I hope I’m not still living in the same spot…and DAMN I hope I’m not doing the exact same job.

In Twenty years…I don’t even know. I hope I’m a little more stable all around. I hope my finances are in order and I hope I’m happy with whatever my life brings. That’s my wish always; that I can be happy and satisfied in my own skin, doing whatever it is I’m doing.


This is going to be a giant list of how I HOPE my life is in 5, 10, and 20 years. With a small bit of actual reality mixed in.

In 5 years I will be 33, which isn’t THAT scary of an age. But I will say that I know I will have more money because all my student loans will be paid off, and my car will be paid off (unless I wreck it and have to buy a new one, knock on wood).  So I am actually kind of looking forward to 5 years from now because it’ll be nice to have more disposable income. I would like to think that I’ll have found a nice well rounded guy that is hot and doesn’t look at or think about other women (ie Zac Efron. P.s. Zac, call me! ;)). I’m starting to job hunt now in a city across the country that I love and have have always wanted to live in. So hopefully I’ll have made that happen by then.  But I would really like to think I won’t still be doing accounting/finance stuff, and I’ll have found my true passion and be working toward new goals in that.

In 10 years I will be 38, which is scary because that’s almost 40. If I’m going to have kids I should have had them by this point, so I think my life will be busied by work during the day and taking care of kids and (hopefully) a husband in the evenings.

In 20 years I’ll be 48. That is fucking scary to think about. That means my Mom will be 71 and my Dad 73, and I don’t like the thought of them getting into their 70s and 80s because that’s when most people die. So I’m not going to think about it, I’m just going to say that since I’m the bomb.com, I will be retired and vacationing all over the World.  With my husband Zac Efron.

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Blanche update.

With all this other crap going on in my life, I realized I haven’t posted much about one of the FEW things that makes me incredibly happy—my kitty Blanche Devereaux.

While she is by far the craziest kitty I’ve ever had, I can easily say I thoroughly enjoy her company. She still has her claws, and she finds great joy in tearing up my curtains and my dining chairs.

She has also fallen in love with a trio of felt mice that have jingle bells on the ends of their tails.

But most of all, she loves drinking water straight from the faucet.

Enjoy the picture overload:


Blanche enjoying the TV…I took this on her first night at my house; I love the spots on her back.


Blanche enjoying “Game for Cats” on my iPad.

Blanche at the faucet.

Blanche at the faucet.

Tired kitty.

Tired kitty.

Tuckered out.

Tuckered out.

Hope you enjoyed a snippet of my sweet Blanche!

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Hi, Betsy!

Over the weekend, D informed me of some pretty cool news: Not only was E’s graduation coming up, but D said her mom wanted me to be there.

WOW! I am so in, right?

The kindergarten graduation ceremony begins at 9:30 Friday morning, so I took the day off work. After the ceremony me, E, D, and E’s mom (D’s ex wife, just to be clear) are going out to lunch to celebrate.

D said he was going to buy E a bouquet of flowers for the occasion. Flowers? Psshh.

I ventured to Target in search of the perfect gift; nothing too flashy, but something to show that I care, and that I’m cool, and that she should like me, dammit.

I really wanted to get a “Graduation Barbie”…which, turns out that even though Barbie is a mom and a doctor and a veterinarian and President, she didn’t graduate. So I was left wandering down the Barbie aisle.

Eventually, I came across the Barbie Pocket Learner:


Yeah, looks awesome, right?

According to the packaging, this little gadget has 24 interactive activities including logic, vocabulary, numbers, and more! You can even send Barbie “emails.”

I was pretty stoked that I found a cool-looking toy that was somewhat educational for a low price. So, I grabbed some wrapping paper and headed home.

Sunday morning, while making the obligatory call to mom, I was messing around with the pocket learner, planning on getting my number-game on, you know?

So I turn it on, and it’s Barbie’s pretty face, paired with some danceable tunes, and Barbie says to me, “HI BETSY!!!!”

Ohhhhh fuck.

My mom hears this and says, “But her name isn’t Betsy!”

I know this fact, and also know that if E turns on this toy and it says Betsy and not “E” I am doomed FOREVER.

So I search through the toy, looking to where I can customize it and make it say E and not Betsy. Who is this Betsy? Some lil whore whose mom was off looking at frozen pizzas while Betsy was left in the Barbie aisle customizing all of the pocket learners.

I had no luck, so I went to Google and looked up the instructions (the learner was still in its package, mind you) and still had no luck.

But the pieces started coming together—it was a toy for 3+, didn’t have any complex instructions, and chances are, it had no real customizable capabilities.

Then, it finally clicked. Barbie was saying, “HI BESTIE.”

Not Betsy. Le sigh.

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Met the daughter.

I met D’s daughter, E, Monday night.

Considering I just met his parents a week before that, 2 things are happening in my mind. 1. Yeah, things are certainly faster than I am used to. And 2., my nerves are shot.

I was nervous to meet his parents, but even more nervous to meet his daughter. I have about ZERO experience with kids.

Considering she doesn’t like The Biebs (absolute bullshit), I resorted to the only other thing I’ve got: bribery. And I went to Justice.

D gave me about 5 hours notice on this meeting, so I ran to the mall on my lunch break, walked into Justice, bee-lining it for a salesclerk.

“I am meeting my boyfriend’s 6 year old daughter tonight and I wanted to get her a little gift and I am clueless,” I screamed.

Once we determined that I didn’t want to buy clothes, I was directed toward the accessories and told which items were “super popular.”

In the end, I purchased a wristlet (pink and white polka dot covered in glitter, complete with a hot green E), purple cheetah shoelaces, and two rhinestoned pink and purple friendship bracelets. I wrapped it all in hot pink wrapping paper and brought it with me to the pizza place.

Upon arrival, E was super shy, which is out of character from what I’d been told. She didn’t want to look at me, and was asking D things to ask me.

“Why don’t you ask her, she’s right there,” he told her.

Eventually, she came around and we talked about her school and the tooth fairy (did you know when you look at the tooth fairy, she becomes invisible?).

“Lucky is a rabbit, E, she eats salads,” D told her when our food arrived.

E was shocked to learn that rabbits eat salads.

When she was finished with her meal, I handed over the gift. I am convinced it could have been a box of turds and she would have loved it if it had a Justice tag on it.

After dinner we walked around some, going to the bookstore. I had fun looking at Barbie books with her (we picked out the Barbies wearing the prettiest dresses). Finally, we went to see Oz.

Of course, our order at the concession stand made me laugh—E making sure she got the BLUE sour punch straws. When we got to the theatre, E insisted on sitting between us, which resulted in a 2-hour long popcorn fight between D and I, behind her back.

According to E, her daddy is “OBSESSED” with butter.

At the end of the night, D told me he was glad to see us get along. He seemed extra sweet, telling me he “just spent a great evening with the two most important ladies in his life.”

I enjoyed hanging out as a threesome so much, I asked D if him and E would like to come over this Monday night to make pizzas. They said yes.

Anyone know how to make pizza?

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I’m not mother material

Well I made it through the bubonic plague without murdering my loved ones and co-workers.  I really appreciate everyone’s concern last week.
Aside from leaving a snot trail everywhere I went, the weekend was still a big piece of dog shit – starting with Friday at work.
There are about 12 people that work in my “sub-department”, we’re all in a 500 square foot suite so whenever my boss has something important to tell us all, she yells “SHOUT OUT!” and we all come-a-runnin’. We had a shout out on Friday morning where my boss informs us all that this girl in our sub-department has put in her 2 weeks because she has taken a better job.  She has her masters in some kind of European studies thing and was able to snag a higher ranked job in that field, good for her, I’m all about not being underemployed. The thing of it is, when I was scouted out to come work for the branch of the company that I’m now in, they had originally wanted me for her position (which is a level up from my current position). At the last minute this girl showed an interest in it and they gave it to her, because although the higher ups admitted I was more qualified, she had been with the company longer, and that was more important to them than actually being able to do the job.  So for the past 3 months while they trained this chick on how to do the things that I learned in the big city, I did her work.  And now she quit.  So, you would think that I would get bumped up into this position because A. It was supposed to be mine in the first place and B. I’m already doing the work, right? Wrong. No one has said a damn word about it to me. Needless to say I’ve been fucking pissed about it all weekend. Like so pissed that I’ve been making empty threats to everyone I talked to over weekend that if they don’t give it to me I’m going to quit, I’m going to fucking quit goddamnit – Obama will take care of me, right? Tehehe.
Literally as I was finishing that last paragraph my boss came in my office and offered me the position. I’m keeping that last paragraph though, just so I can stick my big dumb foot in my mouth.
So anyway, I came home and rolled around in my bed coughing and sneezing all night Friday, and Saturday was the slumber partay. Betty, her daughter, my sister, and one of our other friends all came over for some good old fashioned girl time.  We made pizzas, prank called people, played board games, I got drunk on a giant bottle of wine, ate popcorn, and watched movies. It was a good time, until the next morning.  Betty decided to take a shower, so while she did that, I made everyone pancakes which is also known as the moment I realized I never want kids.
So I’m mixing and flipping and flopping the cakes all around being really proud of myself that not only could I keep myself alive it appeared as though I could keep other people alive too. Then the little trolls come up and started being massive brats. They’re telling on each other for the stupidest shit, and asking me to get them stuff literally every 20 seconds.  And by stuff, I mean they were asking me to get them wet wipes for the swiffer.  I know I shouldn’t be complaining because they were ultimately cleaning my floors, but it was too much. Like why are kids blind/retarded and can’t see that you’re obviously doing something else at the moment and CANNOT get them swiffer pads so they can play. Lets be logical, do you want to swiffer the damn floor or do you want chocolate chip pancakes? To me, the choice is clear. It was so bad that I almost started crying. Instead of crying, I talked to myself. I was telling whoever was listening that I get it, I get why being a parent sucks and is a full time job.  Because kids literally suck the life out of you. It was 10am and I was exhausted.  Later that day while I took a moment for myself, TO PEE, they were banging on the door saying they needed more to drink.  Um okay you little heathens, bring me your cup and I’ll get you a piping hot glass of piss.  Christ. Like really?!
So after everyone went home I cracked open a beer and hungout without pants for the rest of the night.  A small reward for making it through hell for a day.
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We’re getting married…to dudes!

That’s right, you read correctly, Me (Lucky) and my best pal Gizzy are finally getting hitched…and NOT to each other!

And so, like every other bride to be, there’s planning to be done, cakes to eat, parties to attend, registries to build, and of course, a wedding website to capture it all!  Wondering who the lucky gents are? Read and weep my friends…

Follow us on our newest journey: Lucky & Gizzy’s Fairytale Wedding

Happy Valentine’s/Single Awareness Day!

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