So last week I posted 37 random, kinda unknown facts about myself. It received a lot of feedback. I got lots of texts, emails, Facebook messages, etc. asking questions about certain things I wrote. The number one question I received was, “Who was the famous guy you dated?” But that, my friends, is for another day. The second most popular question really surprised me, which is what I wanted to talk about today. I told the world the absolute truth and I don’t think people believe me…….

MATT AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY PEOPLE THE OTHER ONE HAS SLEPT WITH BEFORE MEETING!!! I promise you all, we never had “the number” talk. Ever. We talked about NOT talking about it once and that was that. We both were and are still in complete agreeance….that number means nothing. It does not affect our thoughts about each other. It does not affect our feelings towards each other and it does not change anything about our relationship. It is a number that happened long (ok, well maybe not that long) before we even knew each other. So why is it important to know? We both know that we each have had some fun. Some relationships. Some one night stands. Some people whose names we can’t remember. We both know that the other one is not a prude. We both know that sex is and has played an important role in our lives. We both openly tell stories of our past. We both assume our numbers are probably close to each other….probably.  We aren’t stupid, we can kinda guess the number isn’t in the single digits…..but that is all we got.  We have not discussed it any further.

I don’t really want to discuss it any further. My past is MY past and I like to keep it all to myself. I had fun and I experimented and I made good and bad decisions. What I did between the sheets before Matt ever existed in my life should not have one ounce of an effect on his feelings about me. I am actually proud of my past, some might not agree with it, but I kinda love it.

I hear stories all the time about people dating, then this ‘numbers’ conversation is brought up and a fight is started. Why?? You did not know each other!!! It doesn’t freaking matter. Why on earth would I care about anyone that Matt has slept with before he knew I was even alive????? It is not logical. And god forbid you do have this conversation and you’ve slept with like 175 people and the other person has slept with 2. Then you are going to feel like a real asshole and your person is going to feel like a big prude. And neither of you should feel like that at all. Your past is just that….YOUR PAST. It should not haunt your future, especially when it comes to sex.

Look, of course we wonder. Every now and again I do wonder what my husband’s number is. I am sure he has wondered mine. But the truth is, as many people as he has screwed, he only screwed one into being his wife….wait that sounds bad, but you know what I mean. He only has chosen to be in a relationship with me. So whether is number is 5 or 1000, I am his only 1 and that shit is all that matters.

1. I drove across the country (from San Diego to Atlanta) ALONE
2. I managed to get my associates degree in one year
3. I had all three of my children naturally (NO DRUGS)
4. I dated a celebrity…….guess who?!
5. I was once a seat filler at the MTV music awards
6. I once had my hands on Jared Leto’s brothers phone number
7. I got married on Halloween night
8. I have raised over $40,000 in fundraising events I have thrown…for fun
9. I once had 5 orgasms in one night
10. I have never seen all the Star Wars movies
11. A super-hot guy pretended to be gay just so I would hang out with him for one night in Vegas (I had a boyfriend at the time and said I couldn’t hang out with anyone straight over night)
12. The best sex I have ever had in my entire life was on my wedding night
13. I did not lose my virginity until I was 20
14. I kissed a girl and I liked it
15. I once squeezed limes for margaritas and ended up in the hospital with phytophotodermatitis. (Look it up..that shit is real)
16. I never went to prom
17. I loved Debbie Gibson so much, I sent her a letter every day for two months. Then after nothing happened, I sent her a dollar to write me back…that bitch never did.
18. I still cry over my dog that passed away over 8 months ago, once a week
19. I once was so drunk at a Dave Matthews concert I lost my shoes…..WTF
20. I once ate a pot brownie and had such a freak out I locked myself in my bedroom for two days
21. I have only taken one selfie in my entire life
22. I was a hairstylist for 10 years
23. I adopted a dog from the pound 7 months ago, and I still don’t really like her (I know, that sounds horrible, but it is the truth. She gets treated like gold, I promise!)
24. My husband and I have never had the…”How many people have you slept with” discussion. (Yes I do wonder, but I wasn’t in his life when he was whoring around, so what’s the point of knowing?!)
25. I was once caught making out in a Vegas bathroom with a boy and was then escorted back to my room by two security guards
26. I had my own business once, ran it successfully for 5 years
27. I have only been ice skating once and I sprained my ankle and split my lip while doing it
28. I spent the night at Ralphie May’s house once…he was not there
29. I once took a bong rip and fainted
30. My dream job is to be a Halloween Costume Designer
31. I had a crush on my husband for 4 months before he asked me out
32. I once was a trapeze artist
33. I once took E at Disney World
34. I once jumped on stage at a strip club and started dancing on the pole and was quickly escorted off by security. Then a few minutes later I went back up…
35. I once moved to Chattanooga TN for 8 weeks
36. I used to make and sell homemade dog treats
37. Birth control doesn’t work on me

My daughter turns four this week. It is kinda blowing my mind. It is crazy how fast time has gone by since she entered my life. Maybe because we are like the busiest family on the planet and since her debut we have had two other kids, jobs, school, a wedding and so much more. Or maybe because the idea that time goes faster the older we get is very true.

I became pregnant with Viv completely on accident. Matt and I had our first date March 25^th, 2011. I had a positive pregnancy test July 24^th. So yeah, that shit was not planned. We were very much involved, we had our first date and within a week we were spending every day together. It was like no other dating experience I have ever had. There was no worry if he was going to call me. No weirdness about who my true self was around him. And no concern that he was going anywhere. He had told me he loved me a couple times after a few beers. The first time, I replied with a “You’re weird.” July 4^th, 2011, I covered his mouth with my hand and told him I loved him. I was sober and I just wanted him to know. I loved him and if he wasn’t ready to say it back without booze involved he didn’t need to. Thankfully, after I said it, he took my hand off of his mouth, flashed me that cute smiled and told me that I was the weird one and he loved me too. 20 days later I was throwing up on his bathroom floor telling him I was pregnant.

We both quickly committed to this little thing inside of my belly. We were scared to death, but fascinated with everything about it. As the months went by, fear just got stronger and my belly got bigger. I was already so attached to her and loved her more than words could ever clearly express. The moment I saw her I became a mom. Her mom. I was forever to be the women in her life who shows her how to survive women-hood. I will be the one who talks to her about sex, periods, boys and what assholes they are. I will be the one female in her life she sees day to day teaching her about work ethic, giving back and being a good member of society. I will be the one that tells her that she can be absolutely anything she wants to be because she is a women and we can do anything.  The moment I became her mom I wanted to be a better human. I want to be her role model, and her inspiration. I want her see me do better and in turn have her do better as well. I want her to be the badass chick I know she is.

Being a mother to a daughter is incredible. It is scary as shit too. You have been in her shoes. You know what a cruel and mean world we live in.  You know those awkward stages (a little too well.) You have been picked on, made fun off, hurt, broken hearted and now it is your turn to watch your little girl go through the same. You just now have the ultimate task of making sure she can survive it. She can be open with you and communicate with her how she is feeling. It is your turn to be the shoulder and to say those words “I know sweetie, I have been there. It will get better.” Growing up is hard. Growing up a girl is even harder. Watching YOUR little girl grow up and be let go into this world is the hardest. And on the week of my little girls 4^th birthday, I am already consumed with all the hardness we will both have to go through watching her grow into the amazing women she will one day be.

But for now, I will just make her a My Little Pony cake, buy her some coloring books and make sure she has the most amazing day. Because her birthday is more than just the day I birthed her. It is the day she made me the most amazing women that I am.

My Ride or Die, Dita, who crossed the rainbow bridge last year, HAD to make an appearance in this blog somewhere. Also featuring, her tongue.

So last weekend my husband was out of town for another funeral. The person who passed is very near and dear to my heart, but when the services are in New York City, 4 days after the death and you have a family of five, not everyone gets to go. So I was home all weekend alone with the three kids. It actually wasn’t that bad. (I had a case of laryngitis, so yelling was impossible.) I was running us around town to different parks, stores, donut shops, anywhere to keep smiles on their toddler faces. Saturday morning I woke up, threw on some mascara, saggy jeans and a messy bun and spent the next 12 hours not doing anything to make me feel good about ME. (Well, until I crack opened the first beer.)

At one point I ran to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror. Yikes. I was not looking cute. I stood there and stared at myself. My barely recognizable self. I looked really bad. I just looked like I didn’t care. And sometimes I don’t. But I realized in that moment, that I look like this more often than not. After waking up, dressing, feeding, babying three toddlers. Then working, schooling, blogging and just overall life, I never take any time to fix myself up. I don’t take care of myself at all. I stood there hating everything about the way Iooked.

I stood there, mad at myself for letting myself go. I want Matt to come home in a few days to a sexy, new, fresh wife. HHHMMMMM, I used to cut hair and I used to have bangs. Maybe that’s a good idea. I grabbed another beer and my phone for a quick youtube refresher on cutting bangs.

It was time.

At this point, I was mildly drunk, pretty emotional from the loss of this week and feeling pretty good about my skills. I went for it. After I put in a few layers, I pulled it all back and made the cut. Bam, I now have bangs. I just kept cutting and cutting. They got shorter and shorter and thicker and thicker. And damn girl… I looked good. The night continued, I was feeling great. Matt was going to love how cute and new and fresh I looked.

When I woke up and took a shower and began drying my hair…panic hit. What the fuck did I do??? Why the fuck did I cut my own hair??? These bangs were shit. I pinned them back and again, I was frumpy old me again. Here I was trying to feel better about myself and get some of that old confidence back that I used to own and I fucked my shit up. I spent that whole day worrying and stressing and playing with these lame bangs, it was kinda ridiculous.

 Matt came home the following day. After a full day of freaking out over the bangs I decided to embrace them. I had no other option. I spent about an hour working on them (because you know I have all this time to fix fucking bangs) before I picked him up. And by the end, I was feeling good again. I looked different. That was all it was. I had become comfortable in my frumpy state and these cute bangs were just different. Cute and new and different. I did a full on makeup session and felt beautiful. I could not wait for him to see me.

I meet him at the airport. He gave me a great greeting, a great hug and a great kiss. I was all smiles just waiting for him to say something about my bangs. The fucking bangs I had spent the last 48 hours FREAKING out about. I got nothing. Through dinner, welcome home booty, breakfast the next morning…NOTHING.

I was bummed, but I guess that is just life. I am sure Matt has noticed a difference in my looks. He knew me and how cute I was before kids. He sees me on those rare occasions now that I do dress up and he appreciates it. He sees how fucking hard I work at life and understands working on myself with fancy hair and makeup is not a part of my daily journey at the moment. To him, I didn’t look that different that day. I just didn’t look like an old mom. He was so excited to see me and that’s all I should really care about, right?

It has been over a week and he still has not mentioned the bangs. But no one else has mentioned them either. So maybe it really doesn’t look that drastic. Maybe I look the same. But to me I look different. I do look better. And I know that is all that should matter. But seriously, I stressed for days over him thinking these new bangs were ugly…turns out he doesn’t think they are. He just doesn’t notice them at all. Fucking men. Fucking self-esteem issues. Fucking bangs.

Dear Mom with crying kids in public,

                I feel bad for you. I know deep down inside you have a ton of anger towards your kids right now and you probably want to scream at them at the top of your lungs. I know you think everyone is staring at you and judging. Sadly…they are. But I am not. Fuck those people. Do what you need to do. Don’t worry, your cranky toddler is not going to ruin anyone’s day but yours. You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Mom of formula fed baby,

                I feel bad for you. You are being judged for how you are feeding your child and I know you feel bad about yourself because of it. You get dirty looks from other moms as you pull out the powder and mix in that water. Ya know what…fuck that. You are a bad ass. You made the best choice for you and your family and you NEVER EVER EVER need to justify that to anyone. Shake that shit up and let that baby eat up!!! You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Mom of only one child,

                I feel bad for you. You are asked in almost every conversation when you are going to have another kid. I know you want to look at those people and tell them they are crazy. One little jerk is enough. And it is! If you decide one and done fucking own it and don’t ever feel like there needs to be a reason. You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Mom of many kids,

                I feel bad for you. People glare at you like you are the craziest bitch alive. “You have THAT many kids?!!!’ ‘You are done right???’ No asshole, I am not and every time you ask if I am done, I am going to go home, screw my man and get pregnant just to show you I can! (well not really, but you catch my drift.) Since when did having a big family become such a BAD thing. When all those kids grow up, they are goin to be surrounded by siblings…BEST THING EVER. So fuck them. You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Truly Single Mom, 

                I feel bad for you. But you know what. YOU ARE A FUCKING GODDESS QUEEN WHO DESERVES A MEDAL!!!! Being alone in a parenting is something I cannot even wrap my brain around. You are doing it and making life for this human all by yourself. You are truly a perfect person in every step you take. You are doing great,

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Not yet a mom,

                I feel bad for you. If you are trying to have a baby, you are so sick of seeing everyone else experience it. You want and deserve it really bad. Go ahead and be angry, but please know your time is coming. It is. I know it and I believe it, so you should too. You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Never going to be a mom because that shit is for the birds,

                I feel bad for you. But why??? Do you girl! Fuck those people who say you need to have kids. And every time they ask you when you are going to have them….bust out that birth control and SCREAM never. Women do not have to have kids to be a member of society. Parenting is a choice. Be proud of your choice. You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Mom who has lost a child,

                I feel bad for you. Please feel all the feelings you need to feel and no that whatever kinda mom we others are, we have your back. You are surviving and that is all you need to do. Survive and somehow find a way to heal. You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Dear Dog Mom,

                I feel bad for you. People look at you and think you are trying to replace the idea of a child with a dog. When in reality that is the furthest thing from the truth. You love that dog and that dog loves you. Don’t let anyone shame you for that! Ever. Dogs are the best!! You are doing great.

Love, The Shitty Housewife

Here is what I am saying…. We are all doing the best we can. Whatever care giving role we are doing. Whether it is for ourselves, a child, a pet. We have committed to that and we should really stop making anyone feel bad about how or what their role is. When did being mean to someone else on the way they parent become okay….IT ISN’T at all. So let’s embrace it and embrace each other. I want to stop feeling bad for people. We are all doing more than great. We are all doing Fan-Fucking-Tastic.

I hate Valentine’s Day. I do. I think it is the most ridiculous day ever. To some it is a day to feel pressure to make your significant other feel like the king/queen of the world. To others, it is a day to feel bad about not having a significant other at all. Both ideas are just so stupid. I am a hard-core believer in giving love every single day. I am a married woman who has fully committed herself to my man. He and I both deserve to feel love every damn day from each other. And we may not actually say the words “I love you” every day (we actually don’t…AND THAT IS OKAY!!!) but we show it in our actions and with other words. I get a daily “I am so proud of you” “You are such a great mom” “Thank you for cooking” and “Nice Ass” daily. His actions by providing for me, doing chores, taking the kids somewhere, creating this beautiful life with me, show me how much he loves me. And I always make sure I do the same back. When we are having adult fun time, we really show each how much we love each other by doing the one amazing act he and I only do with each other. WE ARE COMMITTED and no flowers or chocolate can compare to that.

I hate Valentine’s Day. I do. So fucking much. I never celebrate it. I never had and never will. He has always done something on this awful day for me. Our first Valentine’s Day together, I was 8 months pregnant with our first child. He came home with cheese dip, flowers, Payday candy bars and a perfect card. I know he felt like he had too… it’s the day to do things like that. I explained to him that I was not lying, I hate it, we do not celebrate it. Year 2, he still didn’t get it. He came home with flowers, high life, a card and cooked me a wonderful dinner. Again, we had the conversation. No more! Year 3… same routine. Last year, I was 8 months pregnant again. I came home from running errands to a brand new pink laptop. Matt and I have had 4 fights. This was number 3. I was angry, yelling, being such a bitch. Finally he yelled back, which he does not do. You see, Matt has probably yelled at every single human being he knows at some point in his life, but never me. Ever. Except last Valentine’s. “Take the computer and be thankful Jan. It is a gift. Get over it.” I felt awful. My hatred of this day made me sound ungrateful. But I wasn’t. I just don’t want him to feel forced to make me feel special. I don’t want love to ever feel like it is something that has to be shown. To me it takes so much away from what is so incredibly magical about being in love. Being deeply in love is one of the most powerful feelings I’ve ever felt. And I have thought I had felt it before, but with Matt it is so different. I hold it so high above everything in my life that I don’t want it to ever be demoted to some commercialized thing.

I hate Valentine’s Day. I do. And I need to get over it. I have kids and their school will do the Valentine’s Day card exchanges and dances. I will teach my daughter to go and stand tall with a date or alone. I will teach my sons to play the game nicely and not be assholes to people they may or may not like. They will want to celebrate this stupid day. Clearly my husband enjoys it (although after last years fiasco he may have learned his lesson.) I know I need to get over it. But I just feel strongly about it. Love is not something we should ever feel bad about not having. Love is never something that should be cheapened oversized balloons. Love is an expression of two people who truly understand each other on an incredibly deep basis. Love is accepting someone for all of things that make them perfect and IMPERFECT. Love is seeing someone every single morning and every single night and that still doesn’t seem like enough.

I hate Valentine’s Day. I do. But I fucking love, love. Sounds like an oxymoron right? Maybe I just didn’t get that girly V-Day gene. It’s cool. I will continue to hate it, but I will pretend. I will continue to warn my husband not to get me anything and he will most likely continue to by me things. I will continue to urge him that I don’t enjoy forced present, rather he should just continue to be him and love me the most natural way he can. I adore love. I am so lucky to have found this love. There isn’t a card, or bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates that could ever embrace the love we have for each other. I mean, the one year the queso and High Life was nice, because they are my two favorite things, but, and I can’t believe I am about to say this….I do love Matt more than those two things. So go on Valentine’s fan and buy all the candy, balloons and red crap you can find. I just hope your Valentine appreciates you more than it.

Recently I have been questioning a lot about how much we should get involved in other people’s business. And I am not talking about being nosy. I am talking about hearing someone’s choice and then taking it upon ourselves to judge them about it.

I have realized that the older I get the more I am judged. As my age bracket changes (gross,) people feel the need to have more to say about my lifestyle and choices. Which is so odd to me, because shouldn’t it be the opposite? Shouldn’t my choices when I was young and dumb be questioned more than now? When I am much older, a tad bit wiser, but a shit load more experienced?  It doesn’t make sense. When did it become so normal and okay to sit around and judge people and their decisions? When did talking shit become so normal that no one even questions when they are doing it? When did we all become so educated and so fucking worldly that we have the right to tell someone their choice is wrong??

Now look, there are some wrong choices. If you are straight up harming someone, cheating on someone, killing someone or being cruel to a child, an animal or the elderly, YOU ARE A PIECE OF SHIT and you deserve to be judged. You do…sorry. But nowadays everyone is judged for just living life. We are being criticized by friends, family and people who don’t even know us for EVERYTHING. What school your kid is being enrolled in. What neighborhood you decide to live in. What kind of job you do or don’t take. If you decide you don’t want kids, or if you decide you want more kids. What kind of clothes you wear, what kind car you drive. God forbid you are a mom, and you bottle feed! And even worse if you are a parent who believes in scolding!! It is like we cannot make a choice for ourselves without someone out there saying something about it being in the wrong. And even if someone doesn’t speak out, the look of judgement is loud and clear. We have all seen that look and that shit is the worst.

I know I make daily choices that people do not agree with. How Matt and I raise our kids is pretty different from a lot of parents out there. There is a lot of yelling, lots of rules, lots of freedoms and LOTS OF FORMULA! But ya know what, our kids are so normal and so adaptable and overall super fucking cool. I know that when I decided to get a part-time job to get away from them and get some adultness in my weekly life, I was judged. People did not agree with my choice and thought it wasn’t a good idea. When I decided to go back to school, there was judgement. Yes, it required pushing our wedding back. Yes, it was more money and time spent away from the family. But why did anyone care? It was my choice and effected no one but my little family. I have even gotten backlash from starting this blog. But that is crazy to me. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. My thoughts have always been this, I am the least  judgmental human being on the planet, so just give it back to me. If I start hurting animals and old people, get on my case, otherwise, it’s cool. I promise.

I just don’t understand when we became such an openly opinionated group of people. Aren’t we taught acceptance in kindergarten? Isn’t being different good? Aren’t we supposed to be supportive of our differences? When did stating your opinion about not liking something someone else is doing, even though it affects you in no way shape or form become the norm?

It just really bugs me. I want my kids to grow up in a place where they can be openly accepted for who they are and what they decide to do with their lives. I don’t want them have to walk on egg shells in fear that someone will give them that judgmental look. I want them to truly believe they have support from people because their choices really only affect them and no one else.

I just hate what we have become. If someone is doing something you don’t agree with, why the fuck care. Let them do their thing. Let them learn from their mistakes. Let them grow and help nurture that growth. We all need to do this. It should be our job to leave our judgement the door and like we learned in Pre School, IF YOU DON’T HAVE SOMETHING NICE TO SAY, DON’T FUCKING SAY IT! (Well maybe we didn’t the F-bomb that early.)

I just think it is time for everyone to just chill the fuck out. Life is hard, and things are really shitty sometimes. You never know what someone is going through. And while you are sitting there judging them, they are just trying to get through it. Or maybe they are just like me. Super happy, not afraid of something new, and just weird. It doesn’t make me a bad person. None of my choices do. So everyone just relax. Do you and the next time you find yourself judging, punch yourself in the face.