Tag: family life

  • Sunday Things #17

    Apparently, the universe has decided that a peaceful, uneventful existence simply isn’t for me.

    😂

    Between migraines, sick kiddos, a boyfriend who spent half the week feeling like death, and a bodily fluid situation that I genuinely believe should qualify as a natural disaster, I’m beginning to wonder what I’ve done to deserve this level of entertainment.

    And somehow, in the middle of all that?

    I got to experience one of the most nostalgic nights I’ve had in a long time.

    There was music, laughter, a few surprisingly peaceful moments, and enough attitude from a four-year-old to make me question whether she’s secretly a teenager.

    I also learned that apparently there’s no limit to how much poop one tiny human can produce.

    Unfortunately.

    😭☠️

    So, let’s talk about it.


    ☕ This Week’s Comfort

    Y’ALL.

    THREE DAYS GRACE.

    😭🖤

    Wednesday night, my boyfriend and I went to see Three Days Grace in concert, and I don’t think I realized just how badly I needed that night until I was sitting there, listening to music that has been part of my life for so many years.

    The Funeral Portrait opened the show, and I’d never heard of them before.

    They were so much fun!

    I love when an opening band manages to surprise me. You go into a concert excited to see the bands you already know, and suddenly there’s somebody onstage making you wonder how you’ve managed to go this long without hearing their music.

    Then came I Prevail.

    PHENOMENAL.

    Seriously.

    They put on one hell of a show.

    And then?

    THREE DAYS GRACE.

    Listen.

    There’s something about hearing songs you’ve loved since you were younger being performed live. Songs you’ve listened to hundreds of times. Songs you know every word to without even thinking about it.

    And suddenly, you’re hearing them in person.

    I spent part of the concert enjoying myself like I normally would, but toward the end, something changed.

    I found myself just sitting there.

    Not jumping around.

    Not dancing.

    Just listening.

    Soaking up every bit of that early 2000s feeling.

    And you know what?

    It was wonderful.

    I don’t think we always realize how much music becomes attached to different parts of our lives. You can hear a song you haven’t listened to in years, and suddenly you’re remembering things you hadn’t thought about in forever.

    Sometimes those memories are good.

    Sometimes they’re not.

    But the music is still there.

    And for a little while Wednesday night, I got to sit beside my boyfriend and enjoy something that has meant so much to me for so long.

    No responsibilities.

    No worrying about work.

    No thinking about everything I needed to do when I got home.

    Just music.

    And honestly?

    I needed that.

    Of course, Thursday reminded me that I’m not quite as young as I used to be.

    🤣

    Listen.

    I requested Thursday off work.

    And I told my manager we were going out of town.

    So, if by some chance she happens to stumble across this blog—

    I’m sorry I lied to you.

    BUT THAT CONCERT WAS WELL WORTH IT.

    😂☠️

    I’m a little older now.

    I cannot stay out until midnight, get up at six in the morning, and then spend an entire day chasing around an autistic kiddo who likes to throw his speaking device at my head.

    I simply do not have enough energy for all of that anymore.

    My younger self might have been able to manage it.

    My current self?

    Absolutely not.

    I needed that day off.

    And I enjoyed having it.

    No regrets.


    📸 Through My Lens

    I don’t have a big photography adventure to share this time.

    Honestly, I barely had time to keep track of what day it was, let alone plan anything involving my camera.

    But that doesn’t mean there weren’t moments worth remembering.

    Friday, I had all three kiddos over, and something happened that I genuinely wasn’t prepared for.

    They got along.

    Y’ALL.

    THEY ACTUALLY GOT ALONG.

    🤣

    They were playing together, hugging each other, apologizing when something went wrong, using their words, and asking for help instead of immediately getting upset.

    At one point, I think I just sat there wondering what alternate universe I’d accidentally wandered into.

    Because these are the same children who can turn a perfectly peaceful afternoon into an absolute war zone over a toy that nobody even wanted five minutes earlier.

    And here they were.

    Being sweet.

    To EACH OTHER.

    Now, granted, I think part of the reason they were being so calm was because they’d all been running fevers.

    Which isn’t exactly how I want to achieve peace in my household.

    But still.

    😂

    I love taking pictures of these kiddos, but I think sometimes I get so caught up in wanting to capture everything that I forget how nice it is to simply sit there and watch them.

    To see them figuring things out.

    Learning how to play together.

    Learning how to ask for what they want.

    And occasionally remembering that they actually like each other.

    Those are the little moments I want to remember.

    Not because they’re particularly exciting, but because they’re the kind of things that change so gradually you don’t always notice them happening.

    One day, they’re fighting over every single toy in the house.

    And then, out of nowhere, they’re asking each other nicely if they can have a turn.

    Of course, I’m not expecting this newfound cooperation to last forever.

    Let’s not get carried away.

    🤣🖤


    💭 A Thought I’ve Been Carrying

    Can we talk about how much patience it takes to deal with children sometimes?

    Because Monday?

    MONDAY TESTED ME.

    😭☠️

    I had called out of work because I had a migraine, and my boyfriend called out because he wasn’t feeling well either.

    I ended up getting all three kiddos earlier than originally planned so my sister could go to work earlier.

    And for a while?

    Things were going beautifully.

    The boys were napping, and Sissy was being SO well behaved.

    I mean, genuinely wonderful.

    Then the boys woke up.

    And apparently, that was her cue to start acting a damn fool.

    She was sitting on my lap watching videos with me on my phone when she accidentally headbutted me.

    Now, I wasn’t mad at her.

    It was an accident.

    I simply suggested that she go get her own phone or her tabby so she could watch whatever she wanted.

    Y’all.

    You would have thought I’d committed some horrible crime.

    She got upset, fell off my lap onto the floor, got up, and gave me the nastiest mean mug.

    Then she walked over to the couch, doubled up her little fist, marched right back over to me—

    AND PUNCHED ME.

    MA’AM.

    EXCUSE ME?!

    No, it wasn’t particularly hard.

    But that’s not the point.

    You don’t get to hit people because you’re upset.

    So I sat her down on the couch and took away her phone and tabby.

    And while I’m trying to explain to her why she’s in trouble, she’s completely ignoring me and yelling at Doodoo for touching toys.

    I had to repeat myself FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES.

    FOUR.

    Finally, this little girl curls her lip up like Elvis Presley, gives me the nastiest look imaginable, and BUCKS AT ME like she’s getting ready to hit me again.

    Girl.

    FIX YOUR FACE.

    And what does she do?

    ROLLS HER EYES AT ME.

    😭☠️

    I whopped it, and I told her she was going to sit on that couch until she could lose the attitude.

    At some point, I got up to use the bathroom, and she suddenly stopped crying.

    “I’m done crying now, NeeNee.”

    Cool.

    Sit there.

    Then she started crying again.

    I thought you were done crying?

    🤣

    Eventually, I went back into the living room, and she told me she was finished again.

    This time, we actually managed to have our little conversation.

    I explained why she’d gotten in trouble, gave her a few options for what she could do, and she decided she wanted to sit on the couch and watch videos on her phone.

    And just like that?

    She started acting right.

    Imagine that.

    😂

    Meanwhile, my boyfriend spent most of the day hiding in the bedroom.

    Why?

    Because he said he was scared to come out with how much I was having to yell at the kids.

    He wasn’t feeling well, and apparently he didn’t want to risk getting yelled at, too.

    SIR.

    🤣🤣🤣

    But here’s the thing.

    I know kids are still learning how to handle their emotions.

    I know they’re going to get frustrated, disappointed, angry, and overwhelmed.

    And I know that sometimes those feelings are going to come out in ways that aren’t particularly pleasant.

    That doesn’t mean they get to do whatever they want.

    Being upset doesn’t give you permission to hit somebody.

    Being frustrated doesn’t mean you get to scream at everybody around you.

    And having a bad day doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences for how you treat people.

    I love that little girl more than I can explain.

    But good grief.

    She is going to give me gray hair before I’m forty.

    😭🤣


    ❤️ This Week’s Gratitude

    I’m grateful that I get to be somebody my sister can depend on.

    I know I complain about the chaos.

    And the noise.

    And the fighting.

    And the fact that these children apparently believe I exist solely to meet their every demand.

    But I really do love having them around.

    Friday morning, I woke up with a horrible stomach ache.

    And considering the fact that practically everybody around me had been sick, I was convinced I was getting a stomach bug.

    The kiddos had been sick.

    My boyfriend had been sick.

    And now my stomach was hurting.

    Wonderful.

    Except—

    Nope.

    Constipation.

    Oops.

    ☠️

    I took some medicine, drank some apple juice, handled my business, took a shower, and called my sister.

    Then I ended up getting all three kiddos earlier than planned again so she could go make her money for rent.

    And honestly?

    I’m glad I could do that for her.

    I know how much she’s got on her plate, and if taking the kids a little earlier makes things easier for her, I’m happy to help.

    Even if it means occasionally questioning my own sanity.

    🤣

    And Friday gave me another reason to be grateful.

    Sissy had been constipated for about a week.

    A WEEK.

    This poor little girl had been struggling, and I know how miserable that can be.

    Well, while she was at my house, she finally managed to get it all out.

    ON THE POTTY!

    Y’ALL!

    I WAS SO PROUD OF HER!

    😭🖤

    Listen, if you don’t spend a lot of time around little kids, you might not understand why I’m so excited about somebody pooping.

    But when a child has been struggling to go for that long?

    THAT IS A CELEBRATION.

    I was so happy for her.

    And Saturday, when Doodoo wasn’t feeling well, I was reminded of something else I love about being their NeeNee.

    He wanted to cuddle.

    He’d climb up into my lap, get comfortable, and settle in like that was exactly where he belonged.

    Later in the day, his temperature climbed to 101.7, so I let him take a later nap than usual.

    Because listen.

    Hims running a fever.

    Why wouldn’t I let him nap?

    🥺

    I know these days won’t last forever.

    One day, they won’t be this little.

    They won’t need me to hold them every time they don’t feel good.

    They won’t be climbing into my lap or asking me to help them with every little thing.

    And I’m sure there will come a day when I’ll miss all of that.

    Probably even the constant demands for my attention.

    Maybe.

    Ask me again after I’ve had a full night’s sleep.

    😂🖤


    😂 This Week’s “Well…That Happened.”

    Y’ALL.

    I HAVE A STORY.

    And I’m warning you right now.

    It’s disgusting.

    Absolutely disgusting.

    😭☠️

    Saturday, Pooh Boy went on his visit, so it was just me and Doodoo.

    Now, remember how I mentioned that everybody had been sick?

    Well, apparently I forgot that little detail for a moment.

    And Mawmaw Nesi gave Doodoo some coffee and apple juice that morning.

    Listen.

    I don’t know what kind of chemical reaction happened inside that child’s digestive system.

    But whatever it was?

    IT SHOULD BE STUDIED BY SCIENTISTS.

    Because a little while later, this boy had what I can only describe as—

    A BLOWOUT OF MASS DESTRUCTION.

    😭😭😭

    Y’ALL.

    IT WAS EVERYWHERE.

    And when I say everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE.

    It was all the way up to the base of his neck.

    It had soaked through his jeans.

    It was all the way down to his TOES.

    HIS TOES!

    AND IT WAS ALL OVER ME!

    HOW?!

    HOW DOES ONE SMALL HUMAN PRODUCE THAT MUCH POOP?!

    I genuinely do not understand.

    It was so bad that I couldn’t even take his clothes off normally.

    I HAD TO PUT HIM IN THE BATHTUB JUST TO GET HIM NAKED.

    THE BATHTUB.

    TO GET HIS CLOTHES OFF.

    😭☠️

    Needless to say, he got a bath.

    I changed clothes.

    He changed clothes.

    And after all of that?

    This child climbed right back into my lap and cuddled up like absolutely nothing had happened.

    SIR.

    YOU JUST COMMITTED A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY.

    AND NOW YOU WANT TO CUDDLE?!

    🤣🤣🤣

    Of course I let him.

    Because he’s my baby.

    And because apparently I have absolutely no self-respect when it comes to these children.

    😂🖤

    But wait.

    We’re not finished.

    Because Saturday night, I slept like absolute garbage.

    I was up and down all night with a horrible stomach ache, feeling like I needed to poop.

    And I knew exactly what that meant.

    Aunt Flow was getting ready to make her monthly appearance.

    😒

    I was awake at two in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep until four.

    TWO HOURS.

    Just lying there, uncomfortable, waiting for my body to figure out what the hell it wanted to do.

    And then?

    Sunday morning.

    Eight o’clock.

    I wake up.

    COVERED.

    IN.

    AUNT.

    FLOW.

    MA’AM.

    EXCUSE ME?!

    YOU HAD ALL NIGHT.

    ALL. NIGHT.

    I WAS ALREADY AWAKE AT TWO IN THE MORNING!

    YOU COULDN’T HAVE SHOWN UP THEN?!

    YOU HAD TO WAIT UNTIL I FINALLY GOT SOME SLEEP?!

    That’s just rude.

    Absolutely disrespectful.

    SMH.

    😭☠️


    I think sometimes we get so caught up in everything we have to do that we forget to appreciate the little things happening right in front of us.

    And I know.

    That sounds ridiculous coming from somebody who just spent an unreasonable amount of time describing a toddler’s poop explosion.

    But hear me out.

    Life isn’t always exciting.

    It isn’t always peaceful.

    And it certainly isn’t always pretty.

    Sometimes you’re dealing with a migraine.

    Sometimes you’re trying to convince a four-year-old that punching people is not an acceptable way to express frustration.

    Sometimes you’re sitting at a concert, listening to music you’ve loved for years, and realizing how much life has changed since you first heard those songs.

    And sometimes you’re standing in a bathroom wondering how the hell you’re supposed to get a poop-covered toddler out of his clothes without making the situation even worse.

    But somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, there are moments that make everything worth it.

    A little girl finally feeling better after being constipated for a week.

    Three kids playing together without fighting.

    A sick little boy who wants nothing more than to curl up in your lap.

    A night out with the person you love, listening to music that makes you feel like a teenager again.

    I don’t need every day to be extraordinary.

    I don’t need everything to go according to plan.

    And I certainly don’t need every moment to be picture-perfect.

    I just want to keep finding those little things that make me happy, even when everything around me feels like complete and utter chaos.

    Because one day, these kids will be older.

    They won’t need me to hold them every time they don’t feel good.

    They won’t be climbing into my lap after a bath or demanding my attention every five minutes.

    And I’m sure there will come a day when I’ll look back on all of this and miss it.

    Well.

    Most of it.

    I don’t think I’ll ever miss the poop explosions.

    Let’s be reasonable.

    🤣🖤

    Until next time,

    —Destiny 🖤

    P.S. What’s one completely ridiculous thing that’s happened to you recently that you know you’ll be laughing about for years to come? Because I could really use some reassurance that I’m not the only person living in a sitcom. 😂

  • Sunday Things #14

    Another week, another reminder that apparently I am not allowed to have a normal, peaceful existence.

    😂

    I’m on fall break, which sounds lovely in theory.

    In reality, I’ve spent most of it battling a sinus headache that refuses to leave, dealing with an upset stomach, chasing toddlers, and wondering how three children can make more noise than an entire classroom.

    And somehow, in the middle of all of that, I’ve had some pretty wonderful moments.

    I’ve had a date day, watched some good television, gotten some exciting news, and spent a ridiculous amount of time laughing at the tiny humans who seem determined to drive me absolutely insane.

    So, let’s talk about it.


    ☕ This Week’s Comfort

    Sunday was date day!

    We went to Texas Roadhouse and then to see The Other Mommy.

    There were two separate moments during that movie when I said:

    “That was terrifying.”

    Followed a little later by:

    “I lied. THAT was terrifying.”

    🤣

    Overall, though? It was decent.

    I had a few lingering questions afterward, and it was incredibly predictable. I had the whole thing figured out before we were even halfway through it.

    We’ve definitely seen better.

    Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love our date days. I love getting out of the house with my boyfriend and spending time together.

    Sometimes, though, I wish we’d change things up a little.

    It’s always Texas Roadhouse and a movie.

    And while I’m certainly not complaining about getting steak and watching horror movies with my favorite person, I wouldn’t mind doing something different every now and then.

    Speaking of movies—

    Y’ALL.

    I HAVE NOT ONE, BUT TWO JOHNNY DEPP MOVIES TO LOOK FORWARD TO!!!!

    TWO!

    Do you understand how happy this makes me?!

    I LOVE THAT MAN!

    🫠🫠🫠

    Unfortunately, I spent most of Sunday fighting a sinus headache. I even had to stop for Sudafed before the movie.

    And that headache?

    It decided to move in and make itself comfortable for the rest of the week.

    By Monday, I was still feeling awful, so the boys and I spent the day in our pajamas.

    That evening, my boyfriend decided to cook steak and baked potatoes for dinner.

    Now, listen.

    When I’m not feeling well, a baked potato is one of my favorite comfort foods.

    I was SO excited about that damn potato.

    He fixed my plate and was bringing it to me when somehow—

    The entire plate ended up on the floor.

    Broken.

    Food everywhere.

    Y’all.

    MY POTATO.

    😭

    Of course, I immediately jumped up and started reassuring him.

    “It’s okay! It’s fine! We’ll clean it up. Are you okay? What happened? It’s just food. I’ll eat something else.”

    And I meant every word.

    Was I secretly mourning that baked potato?

    Absolutely.

    Was I going to make him feel worse about it?

    Absolutely not.

    He felt terrible.

    He even offered me his steak and said he’d eat the one that had fallen on the floor.

    Sir.

    There are pieces of a broken plate down there.

    Absolutely not.

    He ended up cutting his steak in half and offering me some, but by then I’d already ordered White Castle.

    Chicken rings and mozzarella sticks.

    I’d been craving them for about a week anyway, so I figured this was as good an excuse as any.

    😂

    Friday, however, was a different kind of comfort.

    I slept until 8:30!

    I know that doesn’t sound particularly impressive, but around here?

    That’s sleeping in.

    I took a shower, put my hair in my bonnet, and planted myself in the recliner for a day of television.

    I finished Carrie and ASH13, then started watching The Buccaneers.

    And since I finished Carrie, can we talk about Josie Totah for a minute?!

    Because MY GIRL ABSOLUTELY KILLED IT AS TINA BLAKE!

    🤗🖤

    Honestly, everybody did a wonderful job.

    And I’m not even going to get started on Matthew Lillard, because we ALL know how I feel about that god of a man.

    🥵🫠

    ANYHOW.

    BACK TO JOSIE!

    What I loved about her performance was that she didn’t just play a stereotypical mean girl.

    She gave Tina so much personality.

    The attitude. The facial expressions. The comedic timing.

    She could make me laugh one minute and want to reach through the screen and shake her the next.

    And underneath all that attitude, you could see how insecure Tina was. How desperately she wanted to fit in.

    Josie managed to bring that out without making it feel forced.

    THAT is good acting.

    But here’s the funniest part.

    The ENTIRE time I was watching the show, I kept thinking about how gorgeous this woman was.

    And I could NOT figure out why she looked so familiar.

    Y’all.

    Y’ALL!!!!

    THAT’S LITTLE STUART FROM DISNEY CHANNEL’S JESSIE!!!!

    😭🤣

    EXCUSE ME?!

    Can we please take a moment to appreciate this woman’s glow-up?!

    Seriously, though. She looks so happy, and I love seeing how far she’s come in her career.

    From making us laugh on Disney Channel to absolutely rocking a role in a Stephen King adaptation?

    LOOK AT HER NOW!

    I’m here for ALL OF IT!

    And with the wind blowing, the rain coming down, and a cup of tea waiting for me?

    Friday was the perfect cozy autumn day.

    Sometimes comfort really is just a recliner, a good show, and absolutely nobody asking you for anything.

    Even if it only lasts a little while.


    📸 Through My Lens

    I don’t think my camera has ever had quite as much competition for my attention as it did this week.

    Tuesday, I took Sissy and Doodoo outside to play.

    We were having a perfectly lovely time on the big circular swing when I happened to look down.

    Jumping spider.

    NOPE.

    I jumped off that swing so fast.

    Unfortunately, I apparently didn’t jump far enough, because the metal bar swung around and smacked me right in the ass.

    I swear I bruised my entire ass trying to get away from a spider.

    🥲

    So we moved over to the teeter-totter.

    Surely we’d be safe there.

    WRONG.

    ANOTHER JUMPING SPIDER.

    And this little asshole was running straight toward Doodoo.

    Absolutely not!

    I snatched that baby off the swing so fast.

    Then, because apparently I enjoy making questionable decisions, I decided I wanted to get a video of the spider to send to my sister.

    Except every time I tried, it would run and hide.

    BRO.

    JUST SIT STILL SO I CAN SEND A VIDEO OF YOU TO MY DAMN SISTER!

    🤣

    The little shit acted like we were playing hide-and-seek.

    My other camera-related entertainment this week was significantly less traumatic.

    Thursday, I taught all three kiddos a viral TikTok dance.

    And for about thirty minutes, that was our entertainment.

    Same song.

    Over and over.

    And over.

    And yes.

    I have videos.

    🤣

    I love photography, but I also love having those silly little videos to look back on.

    The dancing.

    The laughter.

    The completely ridiculous things these kids do.

    Those are the moments I know I’m going to want to remember.

    Even if the soundtrack occasionally makes me question my sanity.


    💭 A Thought I’ve Been Carrying

    Tuesday, my boyfriend and I were texting, and he brought up the idea of a destination elopement.

    Now, don’t get me wrong.

    That sounds absolutely wonderful.

    Getting married somewhere beautiful, just the two of us, without having to worry about planning a big wedding?

    I understand the appeal.

    But can we be realistic for a minute?

    I have over $3,000 in surgery bills that I haven’t even started paying yet.

    That’s on top of everything else.

    And now we’re getting ready to start this whole IVF journey.

    Which brings me to another bit of news from this week.

    My first official appointment with the fertility clinic is scheduled for next month!

    It’s virtual.

    And it’s going to cost me $324.

    For a phone call.

    😅

    Listen, I knew this wasn’t going to be cheap.

    But seeing an actual appointment on the calendar makes everything feel a whole lot more real.

    We’re actually doing this.

    We’re taking the next step.

    And while I’m excited, I’m also very aware that we’re about to spend a ridiculous amount of money trying to have a baby.

    Which brings me right back to the wedding conversation.

    I cannot afford a destination elopement.

    I can afford a $200 wedding.

    And you know what?

    I’m perfectly fine with that.

    Let’s go get our marriage license.

    Let’s go to Eagle Creek Park.

    It’s six dollars per car to get in.

    And if somebody can’t afford the six dollars to come celebrate with us, then they don’t deserve to celebrate with us.

    I’m just saying.

    🤣

    I know a few people who could officiate for us for free.

    We can get some cupcakes.

    My sister has even offered to help us with food using her SNAP benefits.

    We could invite the twenty-five or so people we actually want there, have a small ceremony, eat some food, and call it a day.

    Nothing extravagant.

    Nothing that puts us thousands of dollars further into debt.

    Just us and the people we love.

    Would it be some elaborate dream wedding?

    No.

    But I’ve never needed that.

    I don’t need a destination wedding to feel married.

    I don’t need an expensive dress, an enormous cake, or a venue that costs more than my car.

    I want to marry the man I love.

    I want our families there.

    And I want to be able to enjoy the day without thinking about how long it’s going to take me to pay for it afterward.

    Especially when we’re already preparing for something as expensive and important to us as IVF.

    I think sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in how wonderful an idea sounds without stopping to consider whether it actually makes sense for your life.

    A destination elopement sounds amazing.

    But so does getting married in a park and going home without another few thousand dollars in debt.

    And right now?

    That second option sounds pretty damn good to me.


    ❤️ This Week’s Gratitude

    Honestly?

    I’m grateful that I got to spend my fall break with the kiddos.

    Yes.

    Those same kiddos who have spent the better part of this week making me question every decision I’ve ever made.

    😂

    Listen.

    They’ve been loud.

    They’ve been fighting.

    They’ve been crying.

    They’ve been throwing things.

    Somehow, there’s Sprite on my CEILING.

    And I have heard “BLAHBLAH!” approximately nine million times.

    But you know what?

    I wouldn’t trade this time with them.

    I got to help my sister out this week, too.

    She didn’t have to worry about paying somebody to watch the kids while I was off work, and I got to spend some extra time with my niece and nephews.

    That’s a win for everybody.

    And somewhere between the tantrums and the absolute chaos, there were some pretty damn cute moments.

    I got to teach them a dance.

    We invented a new game.

    We watched movies.

    We played outside.

    And even when Doodoo couldn’t decide whether he wanted Momma or BlahBlah, he still wanted his BlahBlah.

    Even if he changed his mind seventeen times before we made it to the car.

    🤣

    I think that’s what I’m most grateful for.

    Being somebody these kids want around.

    Being the person they call when they want to come over.

    Being somebody they feel comfortable asking for things, whether that’s a bath, a movie, or just somebody to hold them.

    I know these days won’t last forever.

    One day, they won’t be this little.

    They won’t be calling me every five minutes or demanding that I come pick them up.

    And I’m sure there will come a day when I’ll miss hearing “BLAHBLAH!” shouted across my house.

    Probably.

    Maybe.

    Ask me again after I’ve had a full night’s sleep.

    😂🖤


    😂 This Week’s “Well…That Happened.”

    Oh, I have OPTIONS this week.

    First of all, let’s talk about Monday.

    Doodoo wasn’t feeling well, and this child could not decide what he wanted.

    He wanted me to hold him.

    So I picked him up.

    Then he wanted down.

    So I put him down.

    Then he cried because I’d put him down.

    Then he wanted picked up again.

    BRO.

    I GET IT.

    YOU DON’T FEEL GOOD.

    BUT CAN I CRY BECAUSE I WANT SOMEBODY TO HOLD ME TOO?!

    😭☠️

    Meanwhile, Pooh Boy apparently decided Uncle’s PS5 needed to learn how to fly.

    Absolutely not.

    Nap time.

    Immediately.

    Wednesday and Thursday weren’t much better.

    Sissy was bullying the boys.

    The boys were fighting each other.

    Everybody was yelling.

    Nobody wanted to listen.

    At one point, I got so tired of the noise that I sent the boys to take a nap and told Sissy to go play with her clay in the kitchen.

    And suddenly?

    Peace.

    Beautiful, beautiful peace.

    Unfortunately, Thursday’s naps lasted approximately thirty minutes because Sissy kept waking the boys up.

    Then somebody dropped a Sprite.

    And by somebody, I mean Sissy.

    And by dropped, I mean apparently detonated.

    Because that Sprite ended up on the carpet, the toys, across the room—

    AND ON MY CEILING.

    HOW?!

    HOW DO YOU GET SPRITE ON THE CEILING?!

    😭

    I spent so much of that day telling somebody to stop doing something that I was sick of hearing my own voice.

    But then?

    I had an idea.

    A BRILLIANT idea.

    I invented a game.

    It’s called Toy Store.

    Here’s how it works.

    I give Sissy a plastic bag.

    She goes around collecting all the toys off the floor.

    Then she brings them to me.

    I pretend to scan everything like I’m working at a checkout counter.

    And the boys take turns putting the toys into the toy box.

    Y’ALL.

    THEY LOVE IT.

    They’re cleaning.

    They’re taking turns.

    Nobody is fighting.

    Nobody is screaming.

    And I don’t even have to get out of my chair.

    I’m not saying I’m a genius or anything.

    Buuuutttt…

    🤣

    I’m pretty sure Toy Store is here to stay.

    And then Saturday happened.

    Doodoo called me.

    “BLAHBLAH! UP!”

    Say less, little man.

    I’m on my way.

    I got to my sister’s house, picked him up, and took him out to the car.

    Immediately, he started crying.

    He wanted Momma.

    Okay.

    Back inside we go.

    Then he started crying because he wanted BlahBlah.

    So I took him back outside.

    And he started crying because he wanted Momma.

    AGAIN.

    Back inside.

    At this point, I decided he obviously wasn’t feeling well, so I’d just leave him at home.

    I drove all the way back to my house.

    Sat down in my recliner.

    And my phone rang.

    My sister.

    Doodoo was standing at the window yelling for BlahBlah.

    SIR.

    YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE.

    🤣

    So I told him if I came back over there, he was absolutely coming home with me.

    He agreed.

    I went back.

    And the moment I tried to get him?

    He threw himself on the floor.

    “I WANT MOMMA!”

    Nope.

    We made a deal, little baby.

    You’re coming with me.

    Then Pooh Boy saw us leaving and threw HIMSELF on the floor.

    “I GO!”

    Y’all.

    I hadn’t even gotten them in the car yet, and they were already on my nerves.

    😮‍💨

    Fine.

    Get your diaper changed.

    Get in the car seat.

    I finally got Doodoo settled, handed him my car keys to play with, and he stopped crying before we’d even left the house.

    We got home.

    I carried the boys onto the porch.

    Asked Doodoo for my keys so I could unlock the door.

    And he immediately started crying again.

    OF COURSE.

    I unlocked the door, handed him the keys back, and gave both boys a Hershey’s Kiss.

    Peace restored.

    For approximately twelve seconds.

    Because Doodoo immediately ran to Mawmaw Nesi’s bedroom door, started knocking, and began yelling for her.

    🤣

    Later, I put Finding Nemo on for him.

    He laid on the floor in front of the recliner and watched it.

    Then, before dinner, he looked up at me.

    “BLAHBLAH!”

    And started singing Let It Go.

    Oh!

    You want Frozen?

    Okay!

    I put it on, and he sat there watching it.

    After dinner, he came up to me and said:

    “I bath.”

    And started signing bath.

    So I got the boys ready for their bath.

    My boyfriend apparently took that as an opportunity to change the movie.

    Absolutely not.

    Doodoo had specifically asked to watch Frozen.

    He’d been sitting there watching it and singing along.

    Just because he was getting a bath didn’t mean he was finished watching it.

    My boyfriend said:

    “He’s not even two. He’s not going to care.”

    YES.

    THE.

    FUCK.

    HE.

    WILL.

    He asked for that movie.

    He was watching that movie.

    And when he got out of the bath, he was going to finish that movie.

    My boyfriend got irritated and said he’d turn it back on.

    Then he put his headphones in and decided he wasn’t talking to anybody.

    Okay.

    Have your big boy feelings.

    I don’t care.

    😂

    After their bath, Doodoo climbed into my lap, asked for a blanket, and settled in to finish Frozen.

    And eventually?

    He fell asleep.

    Once he was asleep, I told my boyfriend he could change the television.

    He said he was listening to his music now.

    Okay.

    Cool.

    Guess I’ll watch what I want to watch.

    So I put The Buccaneers on.

    I had two and a half episodes left, and I was determined to finish the show.

    And here’s where things get funny.

    Apparently, somewhere along the way, my boyfriend started paying attention.

    Because by the time I got to the last episode, I had to PAUSE THE SHOW.

    Why?

    Because he had so many questions about what was happening!

    SIR.

    I THOUGHT YOU WERE LISTENING TO YOUR MUSIC?!

    🤣

    By the time we went to bed, this man had his own opinions about the characters AND his own conspiracy theories about what’s going to happen in season three.

    I cannot make this shit up.

    And speaking of season three—

    PAUL WESLEY IS JOINING THE CAST!

    Y’ALL!

    I CANNOT WAIT!

    🤣🖤


    I think that’s a pretty good place to leave this week.

    Not because everything went smoothly.

    Clearly, it didn’t.

    And not because I managed to get everything done that I wanted to do.

    I absolutely did not.

    But I’m starting to realize that I don’t need every day to be productive, exciting, or even particularly peaceful for it to be a good day.

    Some days, I accomplish absolutely nothing.

    Some days, I accomplish a whole lot and somehow still feel like I’ve done nothing.

    And some days, just getting everybody fed, bathed, and settled down feels like a personal achievement.

    I’m learning to appreciate all of them.

    I’m also learning that it’s perfectly okay to love your life and still occasionally want everybody in it to leave you the hell alone for five minutes.

    Both things can be true.

    😂

    And I think that’s where I’m at right now.

    I’m tired.

    I’m happy.

    I’m excited about what’s ahead.

    And I’m trying not to get so caught up in everything I still want to do that I forget to enjoy what I already have.

    Because even with all the noise, the messes, the frustrations, and the occasional complete lack of personal space—

    I really do love my little life.

    And I hope I never get so busy chasing the next big thing that I forget how much the little things matter.

    Until next time,

    —Destiny

    P.S. What’s one completely ordinary thing about your life that you’ve learned to appreciate? Something you might not have thought twice about a few years ago, but now you wouldn’t trade for anything? 🖤

  • Sunday Things #11

    This week felt like somebody put my life on shuffle.

    There was absolutely no transition between anything.

    One minute I was sick.

    The next I was dancing.

    Then there were children.

    So many children.

    A brand-new baby entered the world.

    Somebody threw a desk.

    Somebody else refused to nap.

    And apparently my boyfriend can sleep through me falling on the floor but possesses some kind of supernatural boob-detection system.

    So.

    You know.

    A normal week.

    😂

    Monday started at 2:30 in the damn morning with another visit from the tummy goblin.

    I spent the next five hours running back and forth to the bathroom wondering what the actual fuck was happening to me.

    Again.

    By 7:30, I had officially accepted defeat.

    I called out of work.

    And I spent essentially the entire day in bed.

    That was Monday.

    Beautiful.

    Thriving.

    Living my best life.

    😮‍💨

    Wednesday, I absolutely took the day off too—but that one was planned.

    Listen.

    If I get home at 12:30 in the morning, I am NOT waking up at six to spend eight hours chasing an autistic baby around.

    Could I?

    Probably.

    Was I going to?

    Absolutely fucking not.

    😂

    Apparently my alarm still went off, though.

    My boyfriend told me he had to climb over me to turn it off.

    I did not wake up.

    Not once.

    I regret nothing.

    Later that evening, Mom called because she wanted to go shopping with the kiddos and her fibromyalgia was acting up, so I went with her.

    Then I came home, turned on Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story, and hid the remote from my boyfriend so he couldn’t change it.

    😂

    He walked in maybe three minutes after I started it, sat down, and actually watched the entire first episode with me.

    Then started asking questions.

    Lots of questions.

    Until eventually I realized something horrifying:

    this man did not know who Lizzie Borden was.

    😮🫣

    So apparently part of being in a relationship with me now includes mandatory historical true-crime education.

    I don’t make the rules.

    He went to bed after episode one because he was exhausted, and I stayed up for another episode like the responsible adult I am.

    Thursday was funny because when I first started writing my notes for the week, I genuinely wrote:

    I don’t remember Thursday.

    😂

    I thought maybe it had just been one of those completely average days where I worked, came home, showered, ate dinner, watched CaseOh, and went to bed.

    Then my brain slowly started handing me Thursday back.

    Oh yeah.

    I got my nails done.

    Then Doodoo called because he missed me, so I stopped at CVS to get the prenatal vitamins my doctor told me to start taking and went over to my sister’s house.

    I helped her feed the kids, do bath time, and get everybody ready for bed.

    Doodoo kept pointing at my watch saying:

    “Uncle.”

    So I video-called Uncle.

    I honestly didn’t expect him to answer because Thursdays are normally his late days.

    Except—

    he was home.

    He had the day off.

    Of course he did.

    😂

    Eventually I left my sister’s house, got all the way home, realized I forgot cat food, and had to leave AGAIN.

    Then I finally came home.

    Showered.

    Ate.

    Went to bed.

    Apparently Thursday wasn’t forgettable.

    Thursday was just long as hell.


    ☕ This Week’s Comfort

    Friday night, I came home from work, sat in my recliner for what felt like forever, took a shower…

    and realized something.

    The house didn’t feel right.

    The boys weren’t there.

    And apparently I have become so accustomed to spending my weekends surrounded by tiny people screaming, climbing on me, stealing my food, and demanding cartoons that silence now feels suspicious.

    😂

    So I went to my sister’s house and got them.

    We came home.

    We ate.

    And somehow—

    neither one fought sleep.

    Not even a little.

    They just went to bed.

    I almost checked their temperatures.

    😂

    But honestly?

    Having them there felt right.

    Even when they drive me absolutely insane, I notice when they aren’t around.

    Apparently my peaceful weekends have been permanently replaced by toddler chaos.

    And apparently—

    I’m okay with that.


    📷 Through My Lens

    Tuesday.

    Y’all.

    Tuesday.

    The Pretty Reckless is my favorite band.

    And my boyfriend made sure I got to see them.

    I have said this already and I will continue saying it forever:

    If that man never buys me another gift again, I am completely okay with that.

    Because he gave me that night.

    🥲🖤

    And I got to share it with someone I love dearly.

    One of my best friends trusted me enough to let his daughter come with me.

    I have watched her and her brother grow from little kids in booster seats who needed help bathing into teenagers with opinions and personalities approximately fourteen times larger than their actual bodies.

    😂

    And lately, she has been carrying some things.

    They are not my things to share.

    What people tell me in confidence stays with me.

    But watching her laugh?

    Dance?

    Cut loose?

    Forget everything else for a few hours and just enjoy herself?

    That meant more to me than I can explain.

    And somehow—

    we both got to touch Taylor Momsen.

    😭

    I still cannot believe that sentence is real.

    As for me?

    I was VIBING.

    That is genuinely the best description I have.

    I drank water all night and danced so hard that halfway through the show my hair was completely soaked.

    My friend’s daughter looked at me and started laughing.

    😂

    Afterward, people actually came up to me and told me they had fun watching me dance and enjoy myself.

    Apparently I became part of the entertainment.

    Whoops.

    I did have one man yell at me about where I was standing before The Pretty Reckless even came on.

    I apologized.

    Moved.

    And he proceeded to glare at me for the rest of the night.

    Okay.

    You do you, boo.

    We had shit to do.

    😂

    We were there to dance.

    Make memories.

    And scream songs we love at the top of our lungs.

    And that is exactly what we did.

    The next day, I went through all my pictures.

    And I got some really fucking good ones.

    My friend even told me I could tag him in my Facebook post.

    Which I hadn’t planned on doing because—

    well.

    Crazy ex-wife situations.

    😂

    Then he told me I could post some pictures of his daughter too, as long as her face wasn’t showing.

    Say less.

    I was ridiculously careful about which ones I chose, and he approved every single picture before I posted it.

    And I know that sounds like such a small thing.

    But it isn’t to me.

    Being trusted like that matters.

    A lot.

    I love photography.

    I love concerts.

    I love the weird little moments my camera catches.

    But I think some photographs become important because of everything happening outside the frame.

    And I think those pictures are going to be some of my favorites for a very long time.


    💭 A Thought I’ve Been Carrying

    Friday afternoon, one of my friends sent me:

    “wyd.?”

    And immediately—

    I KNEW.

    😂

    I told my sister:

    “Hold on. I might have to come get the boys later.”

    Because—

    MY FRIEND HAD HER BABY.

    MY FRIEND HAD HER BABY!!!!

    😭🖤

    I was so excited.

    But then I thought about it.

    She had literally just had a human being.

    And I had just survived one of the longest workdays of my life.

    So I decided not to immediately show up at the hospital and insert myself into her first day with her baby.

    Growth.

    😂

    Don’t misunderstand me.

    I am absolutely going to be all in her business.

    But I can give the woman a minute first.

    Saturday got completely consumed by toddler chaos, so I stayed home again.

    Then today I texted her because I felt bad that I hadn’t made it up there yet.

    She asked if I wanted to come visit once they’re home.

    Baby boy just needed to pee so they could hopefully get discharged.

    😂

    And she sent me pictures.

    Y’ALL.

    That baby is beautiful.

    I haven’t seen a baby that gorgeous since Doodoo was born.

    And now I’m sitting here ridiculously excited because I get to meet him soon.

    But I think there’s something I’m learning as I get older:

    loving people doesn’t always mean immediately showing up.

    Sometimes it means giving them room.

    Letting them breathe.

    Letting them settle.

    And letting them know:

    I’m here whenever you’re ready.

    I’m still going to squeeze that baby as soon as I’m allowed, though.

    Obviously.

    😂


    ❤️ This Week’s Gratitude

    My boyfriend’s mom.

    Easy.

    Saturday?

    Those boys were ON ONE.

    Hitting.

    Headbutting.

    Throwing shit.

    Fighting each other.

    Crying.

    Just being complete little assholes to one another all day.

    😮‍💨

    At one point, Doodoo finally went down for another nap.

    Pooh Boy eventually crawled into the recliner with us and passed out too.

    And when Mawmaw Nesi came through the door, I was terrified she was going to wake him.

    Thankfully—

    she didn’t.

    Doodoo woke up a little later when he heard water running in the kitchen.

    He sat up.

    Looked me dead in my eyes.

    And said:

    “Where is she?”

    Where is who, bub?

    “Mawmaw.”

    She’s in the kitchen doing dishes.

    This half-asleep child launched himself off my lap and stumbled toward the kitchen like a tiny drunk person.

    “Mawmaw!”

    😂

    She picked him up.

    He changed his mind and wanted me again.

    Naturally.

    But after a cake pop, both boys wandered into the kitchen and started “helping” her with dishes.

    And suddenly?

    Nobody was climbing on me.

    Nobody was crying in my face.

    Nobody needed anything.

    For approximately half an hour.

    Y’all.

    Bless that woman.

    😂

    I will never not appreciate those little breaks.

    Especially on weekends when the children apparently wake up and collectively decide:

    Today, we choose violence.

    Sometimes gratitude is deep and meaningful.

    Sometimes gratitude is somebody taking the toddlers into another room for thirty minutes.

    Both count.


    😂 This Week’s “Well…That Happened.”

    I had OPTIONS this week.

    Friday at work deserves honorable mention.

    My kiddo was having an absolutely horrible day.

    And when I say horrible—

    I mean I got hit by him.

    Hit by two other kiddos.

    And my kiddo threw his desk—and himself—at me three separate times.

    Lunch was running behind because they ran out of fries, and apparently that was enough to trigger the apocalypse.

    He had two bathroom accidents too, which was really unusual because he hasn’t had those with me in almost a year.

    By the end of the day?

    We figured it out.

    He was constipated.

    🤦🏻‍♀️

    Sir.

    You terrorized an entire building because you needed to poop.

    And yes.

    Once he finally did—

    his mood improved dramatically.

    Of course it did.

    😂

    Then Saturday happened.

    Pooh Boy’s visit got canceled because the person picking him up had car trouble.

    Okay.

    Whatever.

    Except Pooh Boy then decided he was simply not going to nap.

    At all.

    So by late afternoon, this child was operating entirely on spite.

    Eventually he passed out for maybe thirty minutes.

    And honestly?

    I celebrated that thirty minutes like I had personally won the lottery.

    😂

    Later, Uncle got home and cooked dinner.

    Everybody sat down.

    Doodoo pointed at the television.

    “BLAHBLAH! I watch!”

    You watch what?

    “CaseOh!”

    I had seven minutes left in my show.

    Seven.

    So I asked:

    Can BlahBlah finish this first?

    “No! CaseOh!”

    …

    Fine.

    CaseOh it is.

    Apparently I no longer own the television in my own house.

    Cool.

    😂

    And then Sunday morning?

    Uncle accidentally woke Pooh Boy up early.

    Pooh Boy immediately started yelling:

    “Guncle! Guncle!”

    Which is how he says Uncle and I’m sorry, but Guncle is the cutest damn thing ever.

    You cannot change my mind.

    Unfortunately, the yelling woke Doodoo.

    So suddenly all four of us were awake.

    Early.

    On.

    A.

    Sunday.

    Absolutely not.

    I grabbed Pooh Boy and put him in our bed.

    Now listen to me, little boy.

    Do NOT make this a habit.

    He nodded.

    We are all going back to sleep.

    He nodded again.

    Everybody understood the assignment.

    Doodoo went back to sleep.

    Uncle went back to sleep.

    I went back to sleep.

    Eventually I woke up halfway off the bed with my entire right arm asleep.

    I very carefully rolled over.

    Pooh Boy?

    Still asleep.

    Thank goodness.

    😂

    Around eight, I realized he was awake only because his breathing changed.

    I kept my eyes closed because if he was going to be quiet—

    I was going to enjoy it.

    Eventually he started rubbing my arm.

    “BlahBlah.”

    “BlahBlah.”

    Fine.

    I’m awake.

    😂

    Honestly?

    If that’s how I have to wake up on a Sunday morning, I guess I can live with it.


    And now it’s Sunday afternoon.

    Doodoo had smoked sausage and a baked potato for lunch and apparently approved of my cooking.

    Uncle has been playing his game.

    I’ve been sitting on the couch.

    Doodoo has alternated between playing peacefully and crying about whatever injustice toddlers are experiencing at any given moment.

    😂

    He even squeezed in one last little nap.

    I’m about to take him home.

    Then I’m coming back here.

    Cleaning the living room.

    Finishing laundry.

    And after that?

    I am doing absolutely fucking nothing.

    🤗

    This week started with me stuck in bed while my stomach attempted to ruin my life.

    Somewhere in the middle, I danced until my hair was soaked, watched someone I love forget her worries for a few hours, learned my boyfriend has never received adequate Lizzie Borden education, celebrated a brand-new baby entering the world, and spent the weekend surrounded by tiny people who apparently believe peace is optional.

    And somehow?

    I’m ending the week tired—

    but really fucking happy.

    I keep saying it lately, but I mean it:

    I love my little life.

    It’s loud.

    It’s chaotic.

    It rarely goes according to plan.

    And somebody almost always needs something from me.

    But there are people here I love.

    People who trust me.

    Kids who miss me when I’m gone.

    A man who makes ridiculous things possible for me.

    Friends whose lives I get to witness.

    Babies I get to watch grow.

    And a house that somehow feels a little too quiet when certain tiny feet aren’t running through it.

    That’s a pretty damn good life.

    Even with the tummy goblins.

    😂

    Until next time,

    —Destiny

    P.S. What’s one thing from your week—big or completely ordinary—that made you stop for a second and think, “I really love my little life”?