I am not crazy. I am not a saint. I am well aware of what caused me to have 7 children and yes, it does involve sex. And some bad decisions. But mainly sex.
To start, I had my first child, a beautiful daughter, known from here on out as #1, at 18. Well, technically two days before my 18th birthday, but 18 sounds so much better than 17. I married her father at 19, who will hereby be referenced as THE EX. We had four more children (#2, #3, #4, #5 and all boys) in 10 years. After 17 years together, THE EX and I were divorced.
Enter husband #2, hereby known as S.O. He is a wonderful man, generous, kind, lovely even. And he is slightly crazy. I mean he married a woman with 5 kids. And he is 9 years younger than me. So, technically I am not a cougar, but a puma.
S.O. and I decided to have two more children, #6: finally another girl! And #7: another boy. Love them dearly, they completed our blended family and are not loved any differently than the original 5 (OG5 in our house.)
We have two cats, Gus and Ivan the Purrible. They are cute, they are menaces, they thrive on tearing up toilet paper and trying to kill me by wrapping between my legs as I am walking down the stairs. I also have my widowed dad, “DAD”. He is a sweetheart of a man who breaks my heart over and over by missing my mom more terribly than any of us ever could.
So, that in a nutshell, is my family. Life with nine. Plus two cats. And a widowed dad. And my siblings. And in-laws. And other extras.
I am attempting to be the best mom I can be, although most times I settle on being an okay mom. Sometimes I have great advice, sometimes I have good advice, and mostly I have funny, hilarious, and make-me-pee-my-pants horror stories of parenting, marriage, and being an adult child.
Hope you enjoy! I know that I am … mostly 🙂