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I am a mom.
I am true blond...dirty...blond.
I love to use the word fuck in as many varieties as possible.
I have used a derogatory term to one person and one person alone. Yes, I referred to an idiot as a wetback. One Mexican. Not all, just one. I am really a rather all encompassing person when it comes to race, religion, creed. However, I have called white people white trash...ask my sister when we used to fight. I am far from discriminatory on my foul remarks. Call me an equal opportunity bitch.
I am well versed, educated, and far from ignorant. I am off cuff and obnoxious though.
I dig all sorts of people. I just don't dig fuck heads.
I never tried to fuck over Kristin. I told her to suck dick after she said I was a lazy fuck behind my back. What can I say...I stood my moral ground. Plus I was rather tired of being her human shield to those who can't stand her either and would rather watch her burn than to piss on her if she were on fire.
Oh I have made a fake Twitter account and am big enough to admit it. I am also big enough to admit where I was wrong with that account, delete it and move on.
Where as others created fake Twitter accounts, tried to blame it on others in a weak attempt to get attention and then attacked me with it. Ahem...
I don't take kindly to morons talking shit behind my back, own up and quit acting like a victim.
I didn't need invitro or any sort of fertility treatment, I am a walking fertility center.
I have twins
I have two sons
I have one daughter
I have a wonderful husband
I have couth
I have pride, ego, and a whole boat load of tact (um and boat load can be one and two words ass munches)
I know when to say no
I know when to say enough is enough.
Furthermore, let me clarify the drama between a certain individual and I should have stayed that way, between the two of us. However, because this individual lacks merit, maturity and whole other shit ball of banner items she and her husband do what they know how to do best. Start drama and chaos and rally the troops. You see them all the time going on Twitter and cry wolf "I'm a victim, I'm being attacked" when in actuality they are the ones who are spreading vicious lies and stories to those who want to believe the lies and not accept that all stories have a second side, that somewhere in between is the truth. When the situation erupted I disappeared from blogging. I went back to work and had no desire to blog for a bit. I would post here and there. Then I was getting regular emails about how I was being attacked and I did this and that. Here's the thing...who cares. Clearly the individual could not resolve the issue where she felt she had the upper hand or felt better about herself because she and he were in the wrong so they went and began to bash me and figured they would look like innocent bystanders. No worries by me, I knew this one and simple truth:

Never explain. Your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe it anyway. ~Elbert Hubbard, A Thousand and One Epigrams, 1911

I have lived by that everyday. So if you want to play favorites, take sides, and think less of me go right on ahead. Your opinions mean piddly shit to me. All I did was grab my moral compass, bow out gracefully and that was not enough for some. So for the record, fuck off and good night Kristin, Del, Amanda, Sandra, Lindsay and whoever else...like some random broad named Angela which by the way honey. Next time you post a comment use the intelligence you supposedly have to "teach me a thing or two, about a thing or two" to have enough sense to NOT use your real email, your IP,and not post so much to public forums about your personal info because you see love I know you have three boys, your home address and phone number. So we shall see who will "teach who a thing or two about a thing or you" you twat. You all have no bearing on my life, so suck a big donkey cock and move on. Oh and Amanda, I stood up for you to your sister when she would call you white trash, and brag how you would beg for her HP contact, yeah....she told me and everyone else stuff like that about you and I would tell her to give  you the benefit of the doubt since you are sisters....I stood up for Kristin and got shit on, we saw how she used that fake Twitter account @Notordinarylife that she created to get attention and said it was Tanya....Sandra I always listened to your pathetic whining about how Kristin doesn't care about you and your cancer daughter and how poor you are and blah blah blah, Sandra it's your pathetic life...not mine. I am not attacking your daughter but I could care less about your life and your situation. Truly a pitiful situation with Kayla, but not my life. I can't relate. I just empathize...and Lindsay...well no words for your north of the border lack luster intelligence. The way you came to my blog and commented how you felt my daughter needed to drown and die....maybe I should post your comment about that and show the world how you are so wonderful right? Then you tried to come back and comment again about how you were trying to teach me a lesson?
Amazing how people claim they are so far from judgmental and then the first thing they do is come and judge. Hypocrites.
Me.... I'll just stay good old me who says everything you people won't say which is the fucking truth.

“The truth is incontrovertible, malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end; there it is.”
 Winston Churchill

Personal Evolution

Funny I have had no inherent need to blog. Anywhere. About anything. The thought and pure idea of getting out a post was and is blasphemy to me. Not because I "quit" as to be believed, but more of the fact I had nothing to share of any importance. While my unimportance may be relevance to help ease someone's pains of "been there, doing it" I just could not bring myself to write, because I had no need.

I have been writing, however, just not in the mommy sense.

Another comedic notion is that being a mommy, mom, parental unit has become a lateral position to my new "job" which is woman, wife, self, being. My return to the workplace awakened a slumbering soul. One I have not seen in many years. I have known who she was, who she once was, whom she is, and to whom she will be to others. I fucking like this broad.

She is mellow, punctual, proud, energetic, loving, funny, beautiful, intelligent, creative, and most of all happy.

I am not saying I was not happy, I just found a new happiness. A blissful medium to being a parent and being a working parent at that. The former me was so career driven that family got in the way, now, I have fully embraced family as I work. Proudly posting arts and crafts in my office for others to see and the opportunity for me to gush over the creations by my spawn. Mundane to some and to others the template of perfection, what everyone yearns for, the family, the suburbs, the true happiness.

I found I love myself so much more as well. Embracing my body as a mother, my characteristics of mothering others by caring for them in a nurturing fashion, my ability to think logically and out of the box in order to calm even the most turbulent storms. Even though my own personal storms are worse for weather, with screaming, whining, carrying on of children, the rest of the world has been put into a calming state of organized chaos.

Or am I delusional?

Really I found the issues so many people worry about are an extension of their own problems and bullshit they cannot deal with on their own. My blog for instance and my whole "online" existence was a projection of the fact I was a stay-at-home mom bored out of her ever living fucking mind. Lucky to speak at least 500 adult comprehensible words, I was tapped for obtaining adult and sometimes human fulfillment. Grasping at whatever was available and at times, that fulfillment came in the form of ass hats lacking frontal lobe synapse connections. In lay mans terms, a fucking brain, I dealt with dumb people who believed that the whole world spun on axis with Twitter, blogs, and social media.

Granted, a good number of good people exist in that "realm" but let's face it, I stopped blogging and I didn't die. My blog did, but I didn't. Do I care, nope. Did my readers care, not really. So in essence, nothing gained and nothing lost. Other than my humanity when I let myself get sucked into some seemingly alternate universe that is "mommy blogging" and I found myself later, once removed from said universe, realizing how minute that existence really is, and how no one other than those people knew what the hell any of it meant.

They made a movie about that you know...I believe it was called The Truman Show with Jim Carrey. Highly entertaining to watch someone in a world that is completely orchestrated to them and no one else and how it really isn't the real world.

Moving on.

I find liberation in being myself again. Speaking my mind. Using my mind for that matter other than to tap at the keys these glorious words of utter bullshit at times. Choking down the idea of talking about my kids, when really that day they annoyed the living fuck out of me, pulled all of the Tupperware out of the cabinets, flushed my new perfume down the toilet and the dog puked on the god damn rug. Now I can sit and enjoy my day. Enjoy the fact I get to be an adult, a woman, a goddess of finance for at least 9 hours a day and then come home to children who are eager to see me. Smiling faces and lots of hugs.

Not every night is perfect and they scream and carry on as children do, but I get to relish in the moments without feeling some need to go share with the entire fucking world what we all did that day. About how my parenting skills may have lacked, or that I was constipated, or that I was pitched some product that I could give two shits about. I like knowing I have opportunities that are choice to me now, personally, professionally,  and with my family.

Merry Go Round Conversations

The other day I decided I needed to call my mother. I spent an entire week not speaking to her which if you know our relationship I talk to my mother religiously on a daily basis. Our talks are generally about our OCD tendencies to clean, organize, find structure in a mostly chaotic world of codependency, etcetera etcetera.

Anxiety began to rise inside me, the pumping of my blood, almost as if my fight or flight protection mechanisms were telling me to abort. Too late, she answered. Our conversations were the standard yadda yadda about life stuff, cleaning, work, what's new with the weather, the same fucking shit as usual. Until I knew I had to pull the trigger. No one is my family can do it. EVER. A bunch of god damn ninnies is what they are, all talk and no action.

I told her that I can no longer talk to her about my feelings, that our relationship (and especially HER) cannot withstand the deep seeded issues of being an adult child of an alcoholic, my feelings of abandonment by my parents, family, the fact that I was left to fend for myself emotionally and damn near physically, my issues with trust because of the lies to cover lies to only have the truth revealed after the lies have been played on for so long. I also told her that (she who will not be named...ah Voldermort) we will no longer speak of her other daughter. PERIOD. Not her children, not anything to do with her and in the event she brings up the bottom feeding, oxygen thieving waste of space that my mother and I will no longer be on speaking terms. PERIOD. My boundary, es todo, finito, done.

While I knew this may pain her, I felt this inglorious feeling of vindication. A slow moving blade into the heart of a demon to be slain, but a demon so wanton in a life. I would not let my mother become the necromancer of her fucking shit with her other daughter. No longer would I let that other human being be a part of my life by proxy of my mother. She agreed but her fathom for my request was not grasped. I began and was interrupted to say that my feelings were never understood because of my superior intellectual thought.

I stopped in my tracks. Are you fucking kidding me? Really? You honestly think I think at some higher level of being that you cannot grasp simple human feelings? I took this as possibly a compliment. My mind began to race again as to how I could explain my feelings in the most neanderthal manner, basic human understanding.

After explaining how I felt very much as the family nurse, caring for everyone with no appreciation, respect or mutual repayment in our family. More or less I was the fucking emotional dumping ground because I could pick up the shit and move their garbage around much more easily than any of them. I was Atlas, in every mythological definition, holding the heavens of my family's emotion on my shoulders. A burden I refuse to carry since they could not manage on their own.

My mother when she needed a strong individual during the divorce of my father, the fallout with my step-father with his drug addiction, Voldermort's teen pregnancy...so cunningly planned shortly after the announcement of my engagement and wedding within the coming months, Voldermort who would call upon me in need (she was broke and needed food for her daughter's birthday party, she was broke and needed money to pay bills) and I being the loving sibling obliged because I thought that was the duty of family, to be there above all else, no questions asked, just supportive. Again and again I was called upon by all of them to bail them out of their emotional abyss that they could not maneuver on their own. Each time on took the task on and was left later feeling empty, more abandoned and abused. She still could not see, which was understandable, admitting, accepting, and actually acknowledging the abuse of a far more emotionally superior person requires eating a lot of crow, eating shit at best to show you are not emotionally culpable for yourself.

I also explained how growing up watching how I was always the Stepford child for all intents and purposes. Molded to be absolutely perfect in spite of all my imperfections. All the while my humanity shone through the facade I was always told my feelings were not of any real importance, they were disregarded, and so I buried them. School yard name calling, chased and beaten by other children for being "different"Only until I was an adult did my feeling began to boil to the surface and with proper counseling would they be homogenized. The constant humiliation on behalf of two parents one completely oblivious while the other did so to inflict fear and pain as a sense of parenting.

After making an attempt to explain my feelings, how I was always the emotional landfill for the family and the only child left with no adult protection from the emotional wasteland that was my family did I start to break ground. Not much, but to a point where I came to the acceptance that my feelings were never to be acknowledged or respected by my family. EVER. So I finally was able to tell them to fuck off. If I hurt their feelings from now on...its not with intent, but that I really don't give a fuck. I also explained how I could care less about her daughter. I have no an ounce of humanity or "give a shit" for her. After her pathetic attempt to get to me, break me down in some way over Thanksgiving I can look at the entire situation and laugh. How pathetic she must be at the ripe age of 26 to have to attack her older sister. The sheer pain, hate, contemptuous rage, that she spent THAT MUCH TIME disclosing my personal life to a gaggle of strangers who made a futile, weak attempt to discredit me and make some sort of character assasination. I find so much humor that my mothers daughter still runs to my mother...."Karie did this!"

Oh I cackle like a witch at the fact that I am still "The big bad wolf" to her, that she still thinks my mother has some hold over me. That I really have a fucking care in the world that the low life, pathetic excuse for a human being, family member and mother exists. But what I find even more pathetic is the fact that I have and will probably continue to prove I am in no wrong doing for any actions. All my actions are supported by CONCRETE, evidential proof of my involvement or lack thereof, where as my mothers daughter provides nothing but a series of circumstantial conjecture. Yes by now I know I will become a fabulous attorney. Assuming I have ALL the time, care, and give a shit to attack her. Oh no...as her fucking fearless cow leader would say "stalker." But really, why would I go to such lengths...why stoop to her below a catfish level?

I grow tired of the whole family ordeal. I laid out the law of my life, drew the boundaries of what I will no longer tolerate which includes everything but shallow, emotionless niceties, because I grow tired and annoyed with them. While I love my mother and a good portion of my family minus a certain Voldermort sibling I will no longer put forth any more effort. To be used, unappreciated, and again left feeling abandoned when faced with a time that I may need them as well. Again, only to be left to fend for myself.

So even after our conversation, the situation still remains much to the fact that they have no idea why I feel the way I do. That I shouldn't feel that way even after their emotional scrap was left for me to handle for them. But what can you do other than accept the situation for what it is, set bold boundaries, hold true and firm (as I always do) and hope for the best.

Genesis

The perpetual question of time...."What came first, the chicken or the egg?" Regardless, every story has a beginning. Mine is with a couple of folks who probably were the least likely of individuals, however, my life is a cliche in that opposites attract.

He was an extrovert, creative type, no boundaries, no limits, no rules. Pain and feeling were replaced with the hot decade drug of choice or some distilled beverage with an alcohol content of a minimum 5%. She was the quiet, reserved, albeit conservative who wanted to defy the rules to which she bound herself by. Elton John had nothing on her as she sported her rose colored glasses.

Needless to say I did not choose either one of these people. While they both carry merit, although I question on the sperm donning side as to whether he carries any merit anymore, the two created a disastrous environment to mold me into the jaded, self-loving, selfish (fuck yes, I will admit it), arrogant, intelligent, woman who loves too much. Tis true I am, err maybe was, the girl next door. Beautiful smile and charisma, body that would make a model cringe in envy, and now while still remnants of that girl remain I am but damaged goods.

Raised in a full blown, let's hide the fucking truth that dad and husband are an abusive drunk alcoholic, mom is the ultimate enabler and let's just ignore everything and it will all go away, coupled with the fact that both of them checked out on me emotionally at the ripe age of five leaving me with spotty memories of a youth with two parents. A spotty memory of life as a child. What the fuck was life like as a child?

Recalling my childhood is like asking someone to define the true meaning of life. No one really knows for sure, but what I do know is being put into a position as an eight year old child to raise two younger siblings as if they were your own children. Feeding them, waking them, getting them off to school, even disciplinarian actions were taken because daddy dearest would pass out drunk or high, depending on the day and fix. Mom while trying to be the responsible adult was at work, making some attempt to keep a roof over our heads and food in our mouths. I can tell this story with complete disconnect, emotionless, state of fact in history. I used to burden the pain of a childhood lost to alcoholism and all that the "disease" encompasses. I guess you would consider it a disease the way it spread in our family, consuming all who were a part of the inner circle.

Now I am left to pick together my life, what I have changed through the vicious circle or recurring familial problems. Avoiding the fate of both my mother and my father, and avoiding a cliche fate of my own in the process. Welcome to my world of my truths, my feelings, my perception. Oh and in the words of some dumb bitch I met, "If you don't like what I say here, don't show up. It's my blog. Super simple."

Blog Evolution

At some point in time a lot of blog authors just flat go banana's. Why? Well the "mommy bloggers" that is all they do. Just mommy. All the time. For me, as a mom, as a blogger, I flat out cannot do. Mommy. ALL. THE. TIME.

Because I am a woman. I was a sole woman before my children and before my husband. I lived life by my rules, my way, and before those times I was a child. A child in a truly fucked up, dysfunctional life that today makes me step back and say. WOW. I am truly amazed that I am not a total shit face, that I am not an oxygen thieving, useless waste of space.

So here, I can talk about me. The woman. The inner child. My philosophy. My rants. My raves. My bullshit. My pureness and I can share it with other women and men that maybe have gone or will go through the same things.

Welcome to the stories of me @ KariewithaK