My Secret Stress Relief

OK. So I’ve sat on this blog post for way too long only because I wasn’t confident in the fact that other people would be interested in this. But here goes anyway because the more I sat and thought about it, I was holding onto something that could help others and not sharing that seemed wrong.  Be prepared for some “woo woo” stuff right now.  You’ve been warned.

So the last blog post I talked about how 2018 has kind of been the worst year ever. And throughout the last eight months I’ve had a lot of people ask me how I didn’t spend that entire time completely freaking out. And trust me it wasn’t easy. But here it goes.

I’ve never been a particularly religious person.  Let me just throw that out there.  Where others would turn to a higher power to help them through a hard time, I never really felt like that was my jam. Instead, I am the type of person who likes to give my brain something else to do and something else to think about. So I decided that I would learn a new hobby, as complicated as that seems during such an intense period of my life. But I’ve talked before about how I am the queen of putting things off and sometimes that’s just how I keep from freaking out.

So during this particularly rough period of time I decide to do what I always do and give my brain something else to focus on. And honestly this kind of came out of the blue and wasn’t something that I had put a whole lot of thought into. But I decided that I was going to take up Tarot card reading. And I didn’t think it was something funny to take up or a cool party trick. I always found it particularly interesting and wondered if it was something that anyone could do or if you had to have any particular “abilities”.

Long story short, I was ill informed about what went into Tarot.

Regardless, I got myself a deck and started researching the heck out of this really cool (what do we even call it?) past time.

Now, know that I had no intention of falling into this stuff so hard.  None.  I just thought it was interesting and sooooo many people are so fascinated with divination for obvious reasons.  I think we all want to be able to peek behind the veil from time to time.  However, Tarot kind of had other plans for me, and soon I found myself head over heels in love with this awesome skill set I had learned.

Also, finding out that my essential oils went hand in hand with Tarot and crystal energies was an added bonus.  Because let’s be honest, I love my oils and what girl doesn’t love pretty rocks?

If I went into details here, you’d think I was crazy.  I’d think I was crazy.  I started to have experiences right away with these cards that made me think that maybe, just maybe this was a path I was meant to take.  The things that were coming up were just too big to be coincidences.  And I sat on this information for months because I was afraid of sounding like I had gone off the deep end.  Like, how do you even begin to tell people that you’re having conversations with your dead relative through a set of fancy looking playing cards?  Yeah.  Now you see my dilemma.  It.  Sounds.  Nuts.

Regardless, I eventually came clean with those closest to me and believe me, I expected a thorough talking to about how this was all nonsense and the Devil’s work and how I need to not mess with things I don’t understand.  BUT, that was not at all what happened.  My grandmother casually told me

“Oh, I believe you.  My grandmother used to read Tarot…”

WHAT.  Where was this cool tidbit before?

Not to mention, I discovered that my great-grandmother on my father’s side was a cartomancer as well.  She read playing cards in a similar fashion to Tarot.

I mean, how beautiful is this deck?

So here I was thinking that this time, my family would surely disown me for my weirdness, but in reality, this is something that ran in the under current of my DNA all along.  How friggin cool.

So, now I’m at a place where, yes I am still growing and learning (tarot is one of those things where the learning is never really done) but I’m now fairly confidant in my abilities to read for myself and others.  I’ve been reading just about anyone who walks in my door (if they want to of course) and I’ve learned somethings about what Tarot is and isn’t.  At least to me.

Let’s start with what it ISN’T

First of all, Tarot isn’t something that is limited to ladies in comical halloween costumes or those with “psychic” abilities.

Anyone can read Tarot.  Just like any other skill set, some will be better than others, but it is incredibly inclusive and obtainable if you’re willing to put in the work and time.

Tarot isn’t “evil”

There is nothing intrinsically evil about a bunch of cards.  The messages in the cards are complex.  There’s darkness and light in every card.  Yes, even Death.

The cards aren’t the be all end all

Listen, I know we all want to know how the story plays out, but the cards are not giving you information that is DEFINITE.  Things change, situations are fluid based on your choices. You write your story.  Period.


Now, what it IS to me…

Tarot is like therapy

Tarot is like sitting down and talking things out with your best friend.  The cards are only going to tell you so much and how you interpret them is solely based on how your thought process works.  So for example, if you sit down to the cards and they say “something is coming to an end to make way for a new beginning.” and you say “Oh!  That’s talking about my relationship!”  The cards didn’t say that.  You did.  But maybe you knew that relationship was on it’s way out and the cards are simply giving you another way to look at the situation.  It’s way more psychological than psychic.


So, if this isn’t your jam, I completely understand.  I do.  But you might be surprised once you give it a chance.  ♥

What are your thoughts on divination?  Have you had a reading?  Would you like one?  How would we all feel about maybe doing some card pulls during Facebook Live?  Sound off in the comments and let me know!


Because I Have To.

So.  As the title implies, I’m writing this post because I have to.  Why do I have to?  Because I haven’t.  Duh.

I haven’t written anything in some time, and not because my life is void of activity or events, but because I’m terrible at follow through.  There.  I said it.

Also, I have to say (since I like to be honest here) my confidence has been seriously lacking as of late.  There is something to be said about putting yourself out there and hoping people like who you are.

“But you shouldn’t care if people like who you are!  Just be you!  You are special!”  That’s what we’ve been told growing up, isn’t it?

But goodness, it’s so much harder than that.

I don’t know who I am most days, or how to be sure of myself.  I (as I’ve mentioned before) struggle so much with the concept of making adult friends.  And I know I’m not alone.  There are many people who feel this way.  And especially after having kids, all of a sudden you turn into this MOM-BOT that only says things like “Sit down!”  or “Nice hands!”  and you go by names like “Mrs.  So-and-so”  or “So-and-So’s Mom”  and you’re all “Wait!  I used to by my own person!”.

Add to that mix the fact that my humor is, um, a little off brand to the mom world, and things just get even MORE awkward.  I can’t express to you the amount of times I’ve made a joke, just to have people’s eyes glaze over and their jaws slack a little.

I guess the point of this post (besides me once again complaining about how I don’t know how to life) is that I’m in the process of barreling through this weird, awkward second puberty I’ve found myself in.  Thirty is the new twelve.

So if you find yourself feeling similarly, at least know you aren’t alone.

That’s all.

Ahhhh, Valentine’s Day…

Valentine’s Day is almost upon us, and I can’t help but realize, like every other area of my life, Valentine’s Day has changed drastically since having children.  

Allow me to demonstrate:

BK (before kids):  

You get super excited when you glimpse at your calendar (filled with lots of fun, grown up-like events) and notice that Valentine’s Day is coming up!  Oh for soothe! (Or something.). You can’t wait to spend the day with your love and relish in how much you enjoy each other’s company.  It’s going to be so much fun!

AK (after kids):

Oh hell.  Valentine’s Day is like, three days away!  You didn’t notice between the school meetings and play dates.  But there it is.  Did you pick up Valentines yet for the class?  How many kids are in the class?  Are they doing that this year?  Is there a class party you have to show up to?  Your kid doesn’t know either.  Awesome.  Did you discuss any plans with your other half?  Are you getting each other anything this year?  Why are there holidays?  Aren’t regular days enough?


DAYS before, you start the grooming process for the big day.  You’re waxing and shaving various areas.  You need to make sure you have that certain perfume that drives him crazy.  What are you going to wear?  Whatever.  You’ll get an entirely new outfit.  It’s a special occasion after all!  You make an appointment for the salon that morning so your mani, pedi, and hair look amazing.  You smile to yourself while trying out different make up looks in the mirror and wonder if life could be any sweeter.  


Valentine’s Day.  Like, the actual day of.  Is everyone bathed?  Have they at least bathed recently?  Did you brush your hair and teeth this morning?  Better make sure you do that.  You don’t have to shave. Gweneth Paltrow said so.  


You’ve picked out the most amazing gift for your other half!  It’s wrapped like in belongs in a window display and you are dying, DYING to give it to them.  They’re going to be so excited.  And you know how great they are at giving gifts too.  What is it this year?  Diamonds?  A new car with a bow on it?  Your own ISLAND!?  Who knows?  You don’t!  AH!  You love love!


You hand your significant other the generic box of chocolates you remembered to pick up at the last minute.  They might have thanked you, but you can’t hear them over the sounds of children asking to try some of YOUR chocolate, even though they definitely got their own.  You turn your back for a minute, and that giant gaudy heart you received is filled only with wrappers.  Magical.  


You’re in the car, listening to Boys II Men, and gazing longingly at each other.  Your love surprised you by getting reservation months in advance to some swanky, dark little restaurant that charges illegal organs for a main course.  But it’s ok,  what else do you have to spend money on?  You hold hands across the table, while sharing a dessert and staring into the dark pools of each other’s eyes.  This is so great.  


You head to whatever chain restaraunt that  isn’t completely swamped with people.  You still have to wait an eternity to get seated.  If you have to tell the kids to stop hitting each other one more time…oh thank God, the table is ready.  You go through the the regular dinner time motions (begging people to eat, negotiating, threatening, listening to conversations entirely based around video games and tv shows you don’t even understand) all while feeling SUPER conscious of the fact that everyone in your immediate vicinity is childless.  And annoyed with you.  In fact, your pretty sure that one couple left before their drinks even came to the table.  Whatever.  Jerks.  


You finish dinner and race home to the…main event.  

I don’t feel like that needs further explanation.  


You finally manage to get everyone into the car and wonder if these little heathans will ever sleep tonight after the copious amounts of candy they ate.  Once you get home and make sure everyone is dreaming sweetly, you pass out promptly on the couch.  If you’re lucky, you aren’t snoring.  (You aren’t lucky.)

And I know what some of you are thinking: “Why not get someone to watch the kids?”

And you can do that, but let’s face it, you’re just going to spend the whole time talking about how much you miss them.  

First Come Love, Then Comes Marriage, Then Comes…

marriage vs dating

Hooray, you’re here again. So, my baby sister got married a couple of weeks ago. It was beautiful and sweet, and all things you imagine marriage to be. But it got me thinking. Dating VS Marriage. Total. Game. Changer. Now, I’m no Dear Abby, but my husband and I have been together ten years now. Only three of which consist of “actual” marriage, but I feel like after living with someone for ten years, a piece of paper makes no difference.  I’m not a relationship expert, but I am an experienced member of a relationship. So, whatever. Let’s do this.

marry you

Ah, I remember so well meeting the man I would eventually marry.  I was young, and dare I say, much hotter than I am now.  He was all quiet in a sexy, mysterious way and such a super duper gentleman.  We would talk for hours about nothing and he would laugh his face off at all my stupid jokes.  I was so, so funny back then, folks.  Which brings me to my first point.

The way you feel about each other WILL change.

Now, I’m not saying that to be Debbie Downer, but listen.  When you are with someone long enough, and you spend enough time with them, suddenly things you found so charming, well, aren’t.

For instance, my husband’s quiet demeanor was so alluring.  Until we had our first argument and he sat there staring into nothing.  Saying nothing.  I’m a “need to talk it out kind of girl”.  He’s a “maybe if I just don’t look at her, she’ll go away” kind of guy.  Not.  Cute.

And on the flip side, the sense of humor I thought I had honed over the years, quickly wore off with the hubs.  What started as giggling like a school girl and covering his mouth to contain it, slowly turned into a half a smirk and an eye roll.  Which left me shaken and questioning just how funny I really am.  Because I’m funny.  Dammit.

But of course it goes with out saying the feelings will change in good ways as well.  My husband and I have almost morphed into the same person on a lot of issues.  Things that we would have completely disagreed on in the beginning of our relationship have become things we snort at and pick apart together.  Or I may have just brainwashed him to agree with me to avoid hours of long drawn out conversation.  Either way.  Harmonious.


On to the next point.  Which some of you may completely disagree with.  And if you do, just know, you haven’t gotten there yet.

When we were dating, I remember primping daily like I was going to prom.  Hours of hair straightening, make up application, picking out the perfect outfit.  Exhausting.  As I became more comfortable (read: hugely pregnant with Slugger) I realized that my hubs loved me regardless of how presentable I was.

Be careful.  This is a slippery slope and once you have kids, it becomes a down right avalanche.  I’m only semi ashamed to admit that my daily regiment takes all of five minutes to throw on whatever clean clothes I find in order to get the little monsters looking presentable.  Doing my hair?  More like “Does the messy bun I slept in look ok, or should I redo it?”  Make up?  Chapstick counts, right?  Shaving…happens like once a year.  My yearly shave.  I can barely take a pee with out someone asking me ten thousand questions, so showering long enough to rid my body of any “unwanted” hair is totally out.  Deal with it.   In my defense, there are like, a million memes on the internet talking about how sexy yoga pants are.  Seriously, look it up.  So, score one for me.  I own A LOT of yoga pants.

The caveat to this ladies, is that men have some magical gift bestowed upon them.  Spoiler alert, the gift is you.  While you are catering to the tiny monsters you have created, he has time to groom and primp like the old days.  Which let’s be honest, consists of maybe a shave and some tooth brushing. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with a gift as well, a husband with enough manners not to burp and fart everywhere.  Thank you, honey.


While dating, you put your best self out there.  No one wants to see the worst of a person and then commit to be with that mess.  Nope.  Living together, married or not, definitely sheds light on all the, um, dirt.  Somehow cleaning each other’s messes is not enjoyable.  GO FIGURE, RIGHT?  But it comes with the territory.

 The beauty of dating is, at the end of the day, you both go back to your respective places and subsequently, respective messes.  Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to use a hamper?  Not your problem.  Your craft project took over a whole room and has left no where for anyone to sit down?  He doesn’t have to know about it.

But fast forward to living in the same dwelling, and things get real.  You can hide NOTHING.  You share a space and care for that space together and suddenly you have no idea to live.  None.  Like, for instance, what to you mean I can’t just have various pieces of paper covering an entire table surface?  I was working on something!  Who moved the underwear I left on the floor?  That was clean!  Why aren’t my dirty clothes getting washed?  I left them over here, on the floor, on the side of the bed, which is clearly my dirty clothes pile!  The outrage!

Things get hard, people.  They get dirty.


Dating is fun.  It’s great to look back on the times when everything was fresh and new.  Every quirk was endearing and every conversation stimulating.  But there’s something to be said about coming home everyday to the familiar, the comfortable.  About knowing where you stand, and who you stand with.  Marriage isn’t so bad.  It’s actually pretty great.