Tattooed Hippie Pirate Mommas t-shirts

We finally got our Tattooed Hippie Pirate Mommas shirts made! It's only something I've wanted to do since we started the group in 2011. Two years later.... Pre-orders are being taken and they should be ready in less than three weeks.

They're only $20 and you're representing some of the coolest mommas on the block, so go get yours here. And thanks for supporting Tattooed Hippie Pirate Mommas!

Tattooed Hippie Pirate Mommas 2014-15 Calendar Sneak Peeks

Look for the calendar details on our Facebook page. It's going to be available for purchase at Atomic Candy, Vader Vapes, Wycked Vapor and many other places to be announced. We're also selling ad space this year and it's going fast!

Calendar Sneak Peek: Me!

We've been working on the 2014-15 Tattooed Hippie Pirate Mommas calendar and all of the photos are finally turned into me. SO.EXCITING. I know it's kind of wrong to start with myself, but I wasn't going to pose this year and one of the models backed out the morning of shooting, and we had booked this sweet little vintage candy shop. How could I let the opportunity go to waste? Besides, you're only going to see one of them in the calendar.

All photos were taken by Courts Griner Photography out of Texas. Some are just outtakes.

A million directions

Gosh, it's been a hectic few months. After moving into the new house it was overwhelming, so we found a nanny after long weeks of interviews and she moved into the boy's room. After all, the brother sister team is inseparable..even at bedtime. Immediately after she moved in I lost my main source of freelance income. Ugh. Jumping a week, we decided it wasn't the right fit and Kate moved in. Soon after my old boss called and offered me a job reporting for a nearby community paper and jumped on it. Work at home, go to the office Wednesdays and make myself known in the city.
A month into it, I'm in love with the city and the people who live there. It's exciting to be productive outside the house again.
Cole started speech classes twice a week and befriended the crying boy by the second week. His mom hugged me after he high fived me and said "Look, I not crying!" My heart soared at my son's goodness. Such a sweet silly soul.

I've also been busy with the Tattooed Hippie Pirate Mommas 2014-15 calendar. We hired an amazing photographer Courts Griner and the pictures turned out brilliantly. I'm excited for what's to come with THPM.. but that's another blog post.  ;)

This is what depression looks like, Part 1

The first time suicide crossed my mind I was maybe 12 years old. Along with typical teenage angst, my parents were constantly at war with eachother. Police were called. Threats were made. Bruises were laid. So many tears were cried, I felt nothing. Numb. I remember distinctly standing over the sink washing dishes and one of the glasses shattered. This feeling hit me ... what if I run this sharp piece of glass down my arm?

At 15, on a hotel balcony on a gorgeous sandy beach next to the blue ocean, I imagined leaping off. Angry with life, confused about why I felt invisible, hurt, heartbroken and sad.

At 19, my sister introduced me to the wonderful world of meth.. I had just flunked out of college and was feeling so hopeless, so meth was my comfort. Only I did it in secret, alone, never any needles but too many scary encounters. I lived it. I loved it... until I nearly overdosed. remember laying in my bedroom at my mother's house, shivering and sweating, coming down.. detoxing. It honestly felt like I was going to die. And it would have been okay. It only went downhill from there, as I learned I was pregnant by a younger guy I hsd slept with once. He reacted badly to the news and denied it was his child, so when I finally convinced him to drive me to the clinic, it took two failed attempts. When it was actually time for my appointment, he left me to go through everything alone and left me waiting, wondering if he'd even return to get me. (He did.) Then I dated that asshole for three years. He liked to hold me down and scream in my face. Once he threw a bottle of spit from his nasty chewing tobacco habit at me while I was out with friends. He ruined my white dress, my friend's boyfriend threatened to beat his ass, and cops were called. That ended that relationship.

Twenty-one was a bad year. Living alone in my own for the first time, I turned my focus to meth to get through the days. I wonder how I ever managed to keep a job. My loft had a working stove but not a working oven, so my health was seriously neglected. One weekend I felt so bad after work I walked into my mom's house, weak and in tears, and asked her to take me to the hospital. After IVs and tests, doctors said my potassium level was so low it was affecting my heart. Not good since my diagnosis of a heart valve defect earlier in life.

At 23, my life changed with the decision to move to a bigger city out of state. At first I latched onto the wrong people to do drugs with and my "friend" and neighbor of a year took everything I owned when I kept my stuff at his place while moving into a new apartment. When I returned to pick it up, he refused to answer the door and that's the last time I ever saw him - through a peephole.

The next few years were great. No drugs, no hurting myself. I was also drowning myself in martinis nightly, so of course life was wonderful. At 26, my husband and I got married and the first year was full of therapy.

To be continued...

Mom Guilt

My son has been asking for two hours for me to lay down with him and my response was, "I can't, mommy's working. Just a minute baby." He finally gave up on me as he was tucked into his blanket when I got to a stopping point... sleeping sweetly, I kissed his forehead.

This mom feels like an asshole. May this be a reminder that time with my babies, my loves, my hearts, is precious. Work can wait. Snuggles are better for the soul.

Memory lapse

Must remember my twitter password to post thoughts from my phone. It takes too long to get them out if I wait to sit down at a computer .. if they haven't been forgotten.

Cole Breaks His Arm

This week we had plans to meet a few dogs to adopt a furry friend for our Ridgeback, Zeus, and several playdates with our Pirate friends. But on Monday after we met Ranger, this adorable Ridgeback mix, Cole fell as he was running on the driveway and hurt his arm as we were telling Ranger and his owner goodbye.

As a mother, I'm aware that this kid falls like 1,598 times a day and has numerous bruises and scars on his knees from the two left feet inherited from me, unfortunately. So when he was crying, the first thing I asked him was if he was bleeding, and when he said no, I told him he was okay and blew it off until we got inside and he was cradling his left arm and still crying. When he held out his arm, his elbow bone was swollen and he was unable to straighten it. Immediately I could tell it was broken. Panic set in, because my hubby was in a $10,000 CAD class this week and it was not exactly the right time for an ER visit. Luckily, I'm married to the best husband and father, because he dropped everything to go to the hospital with me.

After a quick visit to urgent care, the doctor sent us to a children's hospital in Dallas, where an orthopedic surgeon informed us he'd need surgery and pins to hold his shattered elbow back together. So on Tuesday morning we went in for the surgery and it was over in less than an hour and a half. The doctor informed us it would most likely heal perfectly, as this is the second most common break in kids. Monday at the followup visit, he gets to choose his colored cast. He's leaning toward green or glow-in-the-dark.

Here are some pictures of the injury and our hospital adventures.

Not a little incident

Recently I posted about moving and staying with my mother in my hometown for a few weeks. What I didn't write about was an incident while grocery shopping at the local Walmart where an old man slapped and kicked my 4-year-old.

Yes, you read that right. Some stranger lurking in the checkout line behind us slapped my son across his head and then kicked him in the butt to move him along. It was 2:00 in the afternoon and Stella was crying in the buggy, exhausted and ready for nap, while Cole stood beside me playing with the toys while I loaded groceries. Admittedly flustered, I saw only the white orthopedic shoe hit my son's rear as I was turning to take his hand, and my first thought was to pull my son into the safety of my own arms, which I did immediately. My second thought was, did that really just happen?

I drove to my mom's house shaking with disbelief and anger at that man and guilt that I didn't speak or act in the moment. How could I let this go? I sobbed to my mother, who seethed with rage for her grandson and demanded I call the police immediately.

After reporting it at the police station, I received a phone call from the PD, who had the surveillance footage tape from the store. As my husband and I watched it, we both gasped and cursed out loud when we saw that man's hand make contact with Cole's head. My sweet little boy turned around to look him in the face, like why did you just do that?  He held up his toy to show the man how it worked...my eyes blurred and the rage came back. And then the officer actually asked us if we wanted to press charges, because it didn't look like a real slap, just like he was trying to get Cole to move. Are you kidding?!  "If I did that to an adult in the store, I'd be charged with assault, right?" Kevin asked the officer. He responded with a firm yes. Which is exactly why we are proceeding, we said.

Weeks pass. We're back in Texas, and I find out through Facebook that the city prosecutor - who I'm friends with and dated for a year when I was 16 - had recused himself from the case. The police station knows of the report but has been unable to locate the suspect despite the fact many officers AND the prosecutor KNOW him.

To be continued....

Too much space

I wanted space. A place for my husband to watch the news at 5:30 without kids in the way. A kid-free master suite. An office separate from our bedroom.
And I got it. 2400 square feet of space, all on one level, plus a fantastic patio and backyard with beautiful landscaping.
I'm drowning in all this space. Says the girl who, years ago, tucked herself into tiny hidden secret spots to scribble her emotions into journals while smoking cigarettes.
The kids are away this week for annual VBS with the grandparents and three hours later I'm still walking around aimlessly. The microwave has beeped endlessly calling me to eat and Tru TV is somehow playing in the living room.
Must get a handle on this grown up house and shit.