I’ve Been Poisoned.


Hello you,

Thanks for being so patient with me as I upended my entire life. Quick recap: I got remarried last year and am the proud bonus mommy to two extra daughters, bringing my total to 4. My husband and I refer to them as The Blondetourage. They are so close in age that they will all someday be in high school at the same time. Please start praying for us now.


I’m honored that you’re checking back in with me after all this time. I have journals filled with topics I’ve wanted to talk about with you. Whenever I’ve thought about sitting down to write to you, my brain swirls with words that evoke very deep emotions within me and I get caught in a rip tide of memories that can never fully reach the surface; words like divorce, one-bedroom apartment, going back to work, making ends meet, child support, coparenting, betrayal, lawyers, courtrooms, humility, disappointment, and abandonment by friends I thought would stand by me through anything. I pride myself on the fact that what I share with you is real, so trying to sugarcoat anything just for the sake of explaining it seems like a boring waste of time for all of us.

But today I feel inspired because I have something important to declare…

Happily, I’ve been poisoned.

With Botox.

These past few months trudging through the trenches of blending a family of 6 during the unprecedented restrictions of life in quarantine, I’ve often lamented, ‘when, oh when will this deadly virus be over so I can safely leave my home to go pay someone an exorbitant amount of money to inject poison directly into my face?’

And today was finally that day. Vain and frivolous? Obviously. A sign of return to normalcy? Also yes.

I’m telling you this because writing makes me really happy. Your feedback makes me feel seen and understood. Your comments make me laugh out loud. I’ve missed you so much. Let’s get back to sharing and laughing. And in the words of one Mr. James Buffett, “If we weren’t all crazy, we’d all go insane.” (Source: Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes)

Expressive and expressionless,



A Thought on Marriage

I think one really fun and also super annoying thing about being married to someone is that you are permanent roommates.

Examples of times being roommates is fun:

  • Impromptu dance parties when Nelly comes on Pandora.
  • Drinking and watching Netflix and not having to drive home.
  • When you have an itch right in the middle of your back and you can’t reach it yourself.
  • Throwing food in the air so the other one can try to catch it in their mouth.
  • Having someone around who understands any minor feelings of hostility you may have toward your children. My favorite account of this was when Avery was being a brat to me at dinnertime and I was trying to keep my cool. Kevin grabbed a bag of broccoli and dramatically pretended to hit her over the head with it behind her back, all while she was still rattling off her snotty demands, completely unaware. Now that is the kind of parenting move that builds camaraderie.

Examples of times being roommates is super annoying:

  • Laundry.
  • Snoring.
  • Constant scolding for not parking far enough over on your side of the garage. How much precision is really required here? What am I, an astronaut?

This morning I woke up early and was looking through my phone, as I often do when I can’t decide if I can go back to sleep or not. Out of nowhere, Kevin said to me in an alarmingly accusatory tone, “You did it again.”  I felt busted. Yet I knew not for what. Me: “Um, what?” Without missing a beat he said, “YOU BERATED THAT F*CKER ON THE RADIO!”

This is the kind of thing that I categorize in the SUPER fun part of being married to your roommate. I live for the times when he talks in his sleep because I find it so thrilling. I carry on the conversation as long as possible with the delicateness of a bomb defuser so as not to wake him, gleaning as much information from his subconscious as I can.

Although it’s not always fun. Once, when Avery was a newborn and still sleeping in a cosleeper in our bed, I made Kevin go to the guest room so one of us would actually get some rest after what had already been a long night of feedings and diaper changes. I woke up shortly thereafter to Kevin standing over me, cradling a pillow and mumbling robotically, “Take the baby…take the baby.” A chill of panic shot through me as I pictured our newborn baby decoratively arranged on the guest bed where the pillow had been. To this day, I’m not sure if this was the act of an exhausted, sleep-walking new father or the scam of an evil genius, but he was never in charge of getting up during the night ever again. Well played, Roomie.

(Avery was still safely in her cosleeper in case you were wondering. And if you weren’t wondering, what is wrong with you?)

From our honeymoon in Maui 2009: Roomiez 4 Lyfe.