Judge not lest ye be judged


I have always made an effort to not pass judgement. Especially when it comes to people I don’t know. Everyone is struggling with something we know nothing about. Who am I to judge based on appearance alone? I have metal in my face and ink on my skin. I wear Chuck Taylor’s that I’ve had for damn near 15 years. My hair isn’t always perfect. I rarely wear makeup. Does that make me less of a person? I don’t believe so. Today I witnessed some pretty heartwrenching judgement that hit close to home.

I took my little one to the grocery store this evening. Any outing with her is an adventure, even at her young age, so I always have fun. Her car seat was latched on to the cart, and we started cruising. People were staring as I was making a fool of myself trying to keep my girl smiling. I got to the baby section, grabbing what I needed isle by isle. Around the corner I heard a couple of ladies deep in conversation, attempting to keep their voices down. I turned the corner where they stood and saw they were two older women, both with skin that was too dark and hair that was too blonde. One of the women looked at a younger girl next them. She was playing with her son that sat in the cart in front of her. She was on The phone with someone and said she was single mom. The woman said to the other that the term single mom is thrown around too much. That she believed that if the mother gets help from the father, she isn’t a single mom. If the father contributes to the upbringing of the child, she isn’t a single mom.

I have not been involved with my daughter’s dad since she was born. Our relationship is very rocky, but we maintain civility for our child. To say I’m not find of him would be an understatement. But he loves his daughter and does what he can. Because of that, I’m not a single mom? I will tell myself that as I walk up and down two flights of stairs with a car seat carrying an 18 pound baby, a diaper bag, my purse, half a dozen grocery bags, and a mesh bag full of laundry. I will tell myself that as I cook dinner every night with her strapped to my chest. As I try and sneak in a shower once she falls asleep. I will tell myself that as I try and eat my dinner with one hand. While it’s still warm. I will tell myself that when I have to choose between a can of formula or milk and bread for me. As I put on a holy pair of jeans, but her in a new dress. Yes, I am lucky enough to have help. I sit and cry at night because I am passed the point of exhaustion, yet can’t seem to sleep. Because I go to bed alone every night, praying I was a good mom that day. Because, because, because. I could think of ten more reasons, but I’m not going to. Because I shouldn’t have to. I am a single mom. It’s not always wonderful. I get lonely. I crave the feeling of crawling into bed at night into the arms of someone who will tell me they love me and everything will be alright. Cliche as it may be, I love it.

Everyone may have a different opinion on this matter, which is absolutely fine. But keep that kind of negativity to yourself. Those women have no clue what that girl’s life is like. What mine is like. I’m not a single mom? Read between the lines, lady. Damn straight I’m a single mom. A Damn good one, I might add. And proud of it. Don’t judge me. If you knew me, you would know I’ve been through hell and back. And have the strength that you didn’t even know existed.

Being Poor


Hope he doesn’t mind me sharing. This made me cry. Looking to my left, I see my daughter, sleeping, dreaming. Not knowing or understand yet what it means to be poor. And me hoping she never will.

Originally posted on Whatever:

Being poor is knowing exactly how much everything costs.

Being poor is getting angry at your kids for asking for all the crap they see on TV.

Being poor is having to keep buying $800 cars because they’re what you can afford, and then having the cars break down on you, because there’s not an $800 car in America that’s worth a damn.

Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.

Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends’ houses but never has friends over to yours.

Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won’t hear you say “I get free lunch” when you get to the cashier.

Being poor is living next to the freeway.

Being poor is coming back to the car with your children in the back seat, clutching…

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Memories, not regrets.

   You’re not human if you don’t struggle with regret to a certain degree. We all Make mistakes. Say things we don’t mean. Do things we can’t take back. No matter how much we cry. How much we plead. If you could go back and change something in your life, would you? A specific moment where you would say yes instead of no? Where you would go left instead of right? I really don’t know how to answer that myself. My first thought is absolutely. I can think of a few moments in my life that I would change. My second thought would (obviously) be no. Every footstep, every incident has led me to where I am today. Made me who I am. I just can’t help but think how cliche that second thought is. As true as it may be, I’m not sure I can totally agree. Judge me if you will.

   Here is how I see it:

   Regrets are normal. Mistakes will always be made. We can’t do everything right, and can’t please everyone. Just don’t allow those regrets to consume you. What is done is done. Put everything you have into not repeating the actions that gave you those regrets in the first place.
   I, however, will not let myself be so terrified of future regrets that I stop living. I want to look back atmy life and be happy with my journey. Well, most of it anyway. I want stories to tell my daughter when she gets older. I want those memories. Good and bad.
   Step out of the box. Even if it’s just once. Say yes. Say I love you, even if It could break your heart. Talk to a stranger. You’ll never know if you never do (Thank you Taco Bell mild sauce for that inspirational beauty).

   Well, I’m not sure if that came out as profound as I was planning it to be. But it felt slightly therapeutic. So it stays! And that’s where I leave you, kiddos. Just a little nightly food for thouht.

…Just an intro…

     I figured I would give this blog thing a shot…I guess I should start with a bit about this wonderfully crazy lady…

     I am truely a free spirit…I, however, have never really been able to be as free as my soul desires…I have been held down by the expectations of society, and the need for money to just barely survive…I get anxious when I am in one place for too long…I feel like I was born to be on the road…I want to meet everyone, and go everywhere…I always feel homesick for a place I’ve never been…

     I love my friends, my family, and my dogs…I count my blessings for everything that has been put in front of me…I have a lot of love to give, and couldn’t be happier with the ones I can share that with…

     …If given the chance, I will talk so much, you will need ear plugs…I love attention, and will usually do anything I can to get it…I can be your best friend, or your worst enemy…I would recommend friend, in all honesty…just sayin…

…Well, I suppose that is a good place to start…let’s hope I didn’t scare you off…If I did, your loss…’cause I’m awesome…