This is the first Christmas in four years that I wasn’t inundated with finals. December was always such a whirlwind of papers, and projects, and wrapping up last minute events. It was exhausting and made it impossible to get into any Christmas cheer.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have “finals,” but they are pittance compared to back then. Online courses so far have been a complete breeze.. and I get to wear PJ’s!

I miss my old community college like crazy, but honestly sometimes I don’t. I stopped by a few weeks ago, and of all days it was a Student Government Day. I popped into the meeting and apparently scared the whole executive board.

Because I have transcended into legendary status.

No really, word on the street is that they continually debate about how I would handle things and try to emulate me when needed. (None of them dared tell me this, this was told to me by the advisor and one of the staff lol). How cool is that?!

They all think I went off to be some bad ass somewhere in the wilds.. but truthfully, I stay at home and clean.  I plan my day out by the hour still, but it’s filled with things like “coffee time” and “snuggle and read with the kids.”

I could watch The West Wing for 6 hours straight if I wanted to and have zero consequences to deal with. I could even NAP!  <~ I don’t but knowing I could is AWESOME!

And it’s Christmastime! My favorite time of the year is upon us and I can appreciate it! I can actually go shopping out in stores and play with the little gadgets and walls of decorations! I can listen to Christmas songs for more than a ride to and from school. I can watch movies with the kids while stitching up holiday themed pieces.


So like the cross-stitch states, I am going to rejoice in this holiday season!




Exciting news!


Do you know the man I have been married to for almost twelve years (…. wait I need to let it sink in for a minute that we’ve married for that long before I continue…… whew!) hasn’t lived with me in over a year and a half.

Technically 19 months, but who is counting……

The time we’ve lived apart is an official toddler..

Sure he comes down every chance he gets but it’s only ever a day and a half, if we’re lucky 2. It’s like a psychological whiplash that is on repeat.. He’s coming home!!  Wait he’s gone again…Was he even here at all or is my mind playing tricks on me?

I’ve caught him calling up there HOME.. that deserting jerk..

But then he redeems himself by driving 6 hours just to spend an hour fixing a leak. Or driving that same amount of time just to see us for a few hours..

All this is coming an end!

This is the month I get my husband back for good!

I will get to live with my husband again..



Happy Halfway!


Lookie here! We reached halfway folks!

This piece is really coming together quickly. I never would have guessed it would take eleven months to get to the halfway point! Woot!


Here’s the supah messy backside.. My friend asked what the back looked like so I took a picture and figured there could be others curious.

Adulting Parents….

The following is a legitimate conversation with my mom.. I decided to document it because it explains our relationship so well…


“Yes, mom, who else would answer my phone?”

“Oh, hi! I just wanted to tell you that I don’t have a phone anymore.”

“What happened to your phone?”

“Oh, well, when the guy stole my car he took the battery out of it and chucked it out of the car so the police couldn’t track him,”

“Wait.. your car was stolen?! Why the hell didn’t you start with that?!”

“Oh, well, yeah he didn’t get far. The police found it within minutes.” Then she laughs, “I just got into work now and thought I’d tell you I have no phone now.”


Thinking about it, this was her way of trying to ease into a situation I’m sure was pretty scary and uncomfortable for her, but at the same time I was pissed because this is just another example of how my mom is more of a child than a grown adult.

My husband, who was right next me looked up. “What happened?” I relayed the conversation to him and he’s like.. “no, WHAT HAPPENED. How did it get stolen?!”

My mom didn’t say, but I made what ended up being an accurate guess. I told him if I had to guess, she hopped into a gas station to get Altoids (better than smoking at least), and had left her car running. Some dude sees this, gets in and rides off. I learned this from the news report issued that day, and not from my mother..


What is further frustrating, is that I technically owned that phone, and it will be me having to get her a new one…

It’s at least better than losing the car, which I also co-own and pay insurance on…. silver linings amirite?




Woe is the tale of Disco Girls, Kaijus, and Killer Clowns


Halloween is a week away, and I always seem to forget that I married into a family whose number one holiday is Halloween.

Growing up, Halloween wasn’t a big event for me. I got to trick to treat a few times, especially when I was younger, but my mom made it pretty clear that this was an “American” holiday that I needed to get out of my system pretty quick.

So when this holiday rolls around I’m always a little late to realize it. My kids, however, inherited their Halloween gene from their father. They’ve known what they wanted to be since before the first fall leaf fell into the yard.

My daughter wants to go as a disco girl, after having found the perfect outfit at Goodwill. All she asked for was that and a wig.. Cha ching on the cheapness!

My son and his father are custom making a kaiju much like those found in the movie Pacific Rim. Again my kid is being economically conscious as his costume so far has cost me $5.

Which is good because apparently it costs over hundreds of dollars to look like this guy:


I wish I were kidding at that last statement, but alas I have bank statements of Paypal purchases to confirm this insane notion. This is what my husband plans on going as to compliment the son’s kaiju costume. My husband even dyed his hair, which as my daughter stated is, “barely darker than his old hair.”

Meanwhile he kept asking me what I’m going to be for Halloween.. until after the 100th time I burst into tears.. I can’t even afford to buy clothes I NEED to wear year round.. never mind something that is going to get worn once..

I spent most of my weekend crying and avoiding my husband because I can’t stand to look at him with his dyed hair. For the past few weeks he’d poked at my grays and asked when I’m going to get my hair done and I ask him when he’s going to stop getting speeding tickets so I can afford to…

I didn’t want to, but I did concede to going over to a friends house to carve pumpkins.. Only with two kids and sharp tools I didn’t get the opportunity to sit down and carve one.



So I got shamed on facebook for really not getting into the Halloween spirit…

My daughter, at bed time, became inconsolable about killer clowns.. because you know that’s a thing now.. and how having a pumpkin with a killer clown on it is CLEARLY an invitation to all killer clowns to come visit. The boy from down the road swore he saw a clown stalking the cul de sac a little away from our house, and the police did report there was actually someone in our town walking around 5 minutes from our house. And then the guy down the road put a killer clown on a tractor with a machete has made all the kids on the bus nervous. (he did after a week take it down). The fact that my Mr. dressed up as a killer clown last year and has spent two weeks lamenting how he really wants to dress up as it again to piss off the “clown haters” hasn’t really helped either.


(as if he’d wear the same costume two years in a row.. who is he fooling)

So.. now I have a Disco Girl who is adamantly refusing to trick or treat, is looking for an accomplice to help trash the above pumpkin and wants to burn  Mr.’s former costume as a message to all those killer clowns hanging around the block…

And I think she may have found her accomplice…




Girl.. You’ve lost your flame.


That day started out as a really good day. I was graduating! I scrimped and saved and then splurged on getting my hair done the day before.  My hair was riddled with gray hairs on the warpath of dominating my mousy brown roots. I felt every bit the frumpy wife that I looked.

This was my graduation gift to myself…

This new hair.. It matched with who I was. I was a force to be reckoned with. I was a student leader who got shit done. I was graduating Cuma Sum Laude, Vice President of Student Government, and had helped to promote so many good things for the campus..

This hair made me stand out for the awesome student that I was…

My friend who was our college’s resident photographer got some great shots of me and my friend before we all lined up to get our degrees..

I met students I have never met before in our little graduate groups. We bonded over our excitement and immediate proximity to each other. We shared our journeys and our future plans (to which I had none.. ) like we were new to be besties…

The President of the College whispered how proud she was of me and honored I had chosen to wear the necklace she had given me as a graduation gift. My mentor of three years, the professor who has pushed me to flourish and gave me my chance in the tutoring center, looked like she was in tears as she saw me pass..

It was so exciting….until it wasn’t..

After I received my degree I rushed to find my family.. My mom had forced my husband to stop by a grocery store and get a balloon and a bouquet of flowers which the kids were anxious to give me. My husband, who was the one to get my flaming graduate photo, was pacing with agitation. He was miserable with the whole affair and couldn’t be bothered to wait for any family photos or come with me to congratulate my fellow graduates. As far as I know, other than this photo there are no photos to put on the walls of me smiling with my diploma that weren’t taken for a profit by the college. Even then, there are no pictures of me with my children while I’m in my graduation gown like I had spent three years dreaming. None of me and my mentor….

As my husband rushed to bring my family home (except for my son who agreed to stay behind with me) the fire within me fizzled. I avoided everyone that I could as I grabbed my things from where they were stored. I hid my tears from my son as we drove home…..  

I lost the people that really encouraged me to be something..who saw me as this whirlwind of a person that apparently still gets talked about as if I were a real life heroine.. Now.. now I’m a mousy hermit who has forgotten who I used to be…who I wanted to be…

As the months go on my hair has continued to lose it’s fire, which now matches how I feel inside pretty much every day.


Protesting Shoulders

Back in July my arm staged a protest..

I had spent the day at the mall with my daughter letting her birthday shop.. and my shoulder just couldn’t take the pressure of her insane need to consume clip on earrings and leggings..

At first it felt like I had pinched something, but then it evolved throughout the night to be a throbbing pain and an inability to move it more than a few inches..

I had to wait a WEEK in this state before I was even seen by a doctor.

I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t drive…. And with my husband being stuck in New Hampshire (and likely thinking I was just being dramatic),  I was largely dependent on the goodwill of my kids to take care of me and the house.. My kids rose up to the challenge and were amazing caretakers. It was through them and a never ending supply of ramen noodles that we made it through the summer.

I was prescribed some anti inflammatory medication, muscle relaxers and sent to Physical Therapy. Muscle relaxers and lack of sleep made August nothing but a blur.

Now all that is behind me!

I am almost released from the three months of not being able to train at the dojo! My physical therapists say my shoulder is stronger than ever and they want to see if going back to thai could impair my progress..

I thought I’d be excited to go back.. but really.. I feel a bit irritated. I don’t want to go nights because it’s too late.. We wouldn’t get home until 7:30 at night. On a school night that’s just annoying. With bedtime at 8:30 we’d have less than hour to make dinner or at the very least eat it, shower and then bed. I am strict about them reading from 7-8 and thai runs into my not so peaceful hour of reading in bed. Although, this would only be twice a week and the kids love being at the dojo. This is their preferred time.

I don’t want to go mornings because it’s too far…. A 45 minute class becomes almost 2 hours due to travel and stretching.. I could run on the treadmill, shower, and be filled with two cups of caffeine in that time.. It doesn’t feel efficient at all. Despite that, it’s now when my “thai mammas” train so it would get me out of the house and socializing more.

I’ve become a bit of a hermit.. The only adult I speak to some days is my mom… when you’re 32 that’s just weird.



My Writing Journey

Soon I will be starting an “Intro to Creative Writing” course. These online courses always start the same: “Let your fellow students know all about you!” This time was a bit unique. We had to discuss our writing journey. I figured I would share it with my bloggy peeps 🙂writing-journey

Hello everyone! My name is Faith!

My first official story was titled “Lisa and the Mean Girl.” It was a third grade assignment and one of the first assignments I had to do within a new school. While others were writing two page stories and spending more time creating artwork, I was writing a chapter book that I knew would one day be a best seller! I was two chapters and 14 pages into it when my teacher informed me that we were moving on to other material. According to the note home, I never edited or revised my work like I should have. My teacher didn’t want to necessarily say that I was negligent in my work, as I was leagues ahead in regard to development, but I needed to learn to work within the time frames given to ensure I get my work done on time. I still don’t really know what to make of that assessment.

My love for writing flourished in fifth grade. My teacher, Mrs. Bednarz, made us write in a journal in the beginning of each day. Sometimes she would give us prompts, but we could write whatever we wanted to. I would take a prompt one day and spend weeks working on it. I even drafted up series pieces. She let me work on them in my free time and even encouraged that we share what we wrote with our classmates. This memory may be skewed a bit to inflate my pride, but I remember everyone saying they loved my stories and couldn’t wait until I was ready to share them. Mrs. Bednarz called me the class writer, and made me promise her than when I became a published author I’d dedicate my first book to her.

Middle school was hell, and I don’t think I wrote at all during this period. I was mercilessly bullied. Apparently, my muse does not work when I am in despair. In my sophomore year of high school I took a creative writing class. I honestly don’t remember anything at all about the class. I do remember that I wrote one piece, a short story in which I tried to focus on the characters learning empathy for the people around them. The teacher said the piece “moved him” and that I had a rare gift. It reinvigorated my love for writing.

The next stage of my writing development isn’t one I usually speak of, but since I know in this class I will be surrounded by kindred spirits, I will share it. I spent the rest of my high school time thoroughly engrossed in……fanfiction.. I wrote about my friends and I, and later members in my online group, meeting famous boybands and the torrid love affairs that ensued. I had about 500 followers and AOL (kind of dating myself a bit) had frozen my account a few times thinking I was sending SPAM emails. I even made a bit of money writing specific pieces for girls. It’s the closest I will probably ever get to published work.

When I graduated high school I finished a novel that I have never shared with anyone. I titled it Standing Next to Perfection. It was based off of my friend who attempted suicide trying to be everything that everyone wanted her to be. I have also spent over fourteen years developing another story. It’s not cohesive, and I don’t plan on ever making it so. The characters I see as representations of myself and I write about them when I feel I need to deal with the world around me.

After I had children, my writing took another hiatus. I did, however, blog. Writing about the world around me was a great way to connect to other people. I still have a blog, but it’s pretty neglected as of late.

In 2013, I began my college journey and was introduced to a new type of writing: Composition. Most people I know hate this style, but I love it. I love the ability to not only write, but argue and defend what I feel is right. I have never experienced a “writer’s high” such as when I feel like a paper is coming together. After a year, I was referred to the Writing Center to become a peer writing tutor. Mostly I worked with what they call 096 students. These are students who are not quite ready to start college level work. One of their first official writing pieces is a personal narrative, in which they write about a moment in their lives that changed them. Working with these students was one of the most humbling moments in my life. I did my best to instill my own love for writing within each and every one of my students. All in all, working in the Writing Center made me appreciate the personal voice that everyone has within their writing.

In this time I was also asked to write a few pieces for the school’s newspaper. I didn’t really care for it as my focus at this time was on larger issues. I was Vice President of Student Government, served on the campus’ Governance Council, and held various executive board positions in three major clubs. When I wrote in this time, it was to serve the student’s agenda on various issues such as security issues and non-binary gender inclusivity.

Upon graduating from my community college, I had to hand off all my fancy titles, including peer writing tutor. My goal for my time at SNHU is to focus on developing my skills as a writer and gain the credentials to return to my former community college as an educating assistant. Although I do not plan on ever formally publishing anything, I am working on a few things. I am working on a youth fantasy novel based a bit off of the children in my life. The story focuses on the impact that children can have on the world around them especially in times of war and strife. I am also collaborating on a zombie apocalypse piece with my son. It focuses on the detrimental side effects of industrial farming/fracking within our society and uses zombies as a catalyst to promote better treatment of the environment. Finally, I am creating a collection of short stories based on my experience as a submariner wife. In each piece I take a look at most of the stereotypes associated with this title and use my background within sociology and women’s studies to create a unique lens on the experiences we endure.

Who Are You? Character Edition

Facebook has this new craze where you post three characters you identify with. It’s been interesting to see who my friends and family see themselves as within the dramatized characters seen on screen. This took a lot of time for me to really think on what characters are a good representation of myself… but I finally did it!


Kiki, pictured in the middle of this Bad Moms Trio, was an easy one. Let’s just say, I should be suing for copyright infringement as this is me when I am in mom mode. When my thai momma friends and I go out to see a movie we are usually the loudest people in that theatre. My friend M throughout this movie kept poking me and hollering “That is you, Faith!!!” And there was even discussion that there may be a video of me doing the same exact drunk dance walk Kiki does.. only I was probably sober at the time..

Anyways, what makes me connect to her, is how tied she is to her husband’s envision of how she should act and be as a mother. Now, my husband is actually pretty zen about my life choices, so I’m not comparing my relationship to hers.. but I do often feel like I am internally combatting between being a “proper” domestic stay at home mom who cleans and makes brownies for school functions and a person who is really doesn’t mind a messy house…… I do, however, project this internal struggle onto my husband a lot.. that’s not cool..


Lorelei Gilmore … I have identified with her since before I graduated high school. The quick sarcastic whit coupled by the fact she lives in a small town in Connecticut AND works at a hotel. Me… mee.. mee.. We share the same management philosophy, love for coffee and both raised our daughters to be more than we can hope to be.

If only I had parents that were very well off…..


Mellie Grant: First Lady, Senator and hopefully next President of the United States (I am only in the middle of season 5.. no spoilers).

Like Mellie, I am a bit tired of being cast in my husband’s shadow, meant to play only a supporting role. I am smart.. I am hardworking… and I feel destined to be more than what people keep saying I should be.

Also, I’m not afraid to bitch slap the most powerful man in the world when he does me wrong.. although my slaps have been verbal and of lesser power people.

I envy that she demanded what she felt she deserved and as far as I can see is excelling at it.

Did anyone else play this game on facebook? What are your three choices???

Daily Prompt: Silence

I spend at least once a week walking a nature preserve in my area. I get there around 8:30 and walk by myself in the silence that surrounds that area when others are off working or at school.

It’s a new experience for myself. Usually there is always someone in tow. A child, a friend, SOMEONE that I have to cater to in either parenting or conversation.

I get to think thoughts .. I get to observe without distraction….

I get to Pokémon hunt without judgement….


It’s by far not the most responsible thing I should be doing with my time. My house is messy, I have homework I should be working, the usual. But it’s been one of the most cathartic moments I’ve found since I felt my world shifted.


Today I went, and it was the day after a major rain. The paths were muddy and puddles were predominant. I nearly bust my butt and skidded a few feet in an attempt to keep my balance. It would have looked hilarious if anyone had been there to see it.



via Daily Prompt: Silence