Life, motherhood


We’ve told our kids no pets for them for awhile. As we know that they would wind up leaving all pet care to us.

However, much to my surprise, our daughter has taken up an interest in…worms! Yes, our 5 year old princess is very into worms right now.

I figured that would be a safe bet first pet right there! No taking them for walks, no litter boxes, etc. That led me to mentioning it to my husband, and he agreed. Her plan is to keep them for awhile, but then let them go “into nature” because they would like that. I find it adorable.

Now I’m sitting here, looking up how to feed worms. Nothing I’ve really ever thought of before, to be honest.

I’m thankful she’s past the screaming bloody murder when she sees a worm! Now she gets excited and tells me she’s sees it. Same with geckos. She’s less likely to touch those, but there’s been progress!

Here’s to having worms for a first pet šŸ™‚


Life, motherhood

The Journey to Getting Him Re-tested

When my son was about 2, he was diagnosed with a speech delay. He was also tested for Autism around that time (between 2 and about 3ish, I believe). We were given copies of all the paperwork. What I read was that he was borderline, but not being diagnosed. It made no sense to me. I read them time and time again in the following years, trying to see if I missed something.

It ate at me, until I pushed it to the back of my mind. I told myself that I didn’t know what I was talking about. And then my friend opened up about her own son on social media. She wrote about her own son’s behaviors, and testing. He was diagnosed as Autistic. I spoke to her now and then, and it brought that question back to the forefront of my mind.

Is Anakin Autistic?

Now, this isn’t wanting my son to be Autistic. This is wanting all possible answers that could lead my son to his best life.

I spoke to our doctor, who was very understanding, and agreed that he did sound like he is on the spectrum. However, he needed to be referred to be retested. Finally, we were getting somewhere.

We waited.

And waited.


No word.

Finally, at another appointment, I asked her about it. She said the referral went through, and gave me the number of where he was referred to. The other half called the following week (busy time as of late for us). Turns out, the center he was referred to- was 18+.

He called our doctor’s office and explained this. He was then transferred to the referral department, who is working on now referring us to someone who takes our insurance, and works with kids.

I hope to get this worked out before school starts for him in August, as he already has has an IEP the past couple years. I’m assuming we will have another meeting the start of this year, as well.

Cross your fingers for my little man, guys.



One Goal at a Time

My therapist had suggested I don’t make to-do lists. Don’t write out everything I have to do that day. Don’t write out all the little (and big tasks), as that can quickly overwhelm me. She suggested that I write one thing at a time. Somewhere I can erase it, or delete it. Such as a white board, or a word doc on my computer.

I did really well with this strategy, actually. I flourished with it.

And then I didn’t.

Then I let my mind take over and pile on everything I needed to get done. I let myself get overwhelmed with each bit of housework that wasn’t complete.

So, today, I’m taking a deep breath and going back to the one goal at a time. It likely helps that I’ve been back on my medication for a few days, and that I’ve had coffee. Who knows.

I’m starting with dishes. Washing, and putting them away. The tupperware has been getting stacked on the counter to be put away for days. I have the dishes soaking in hot water while I finish up my coffee.

Between dishes, I write, and walk. Writing means so much to me, and yet I feel guilty if I write too much when I have housework to do. I refuse to let myself feel guilty for doing something that means so much!

Once dishes are done, I’ll decide my next project. However, I won’t think of everything I have to do until then.



Manic Days

Today didn’t start off all that well, really. Not even going down that rabbit hole.

Then, I snapped. A switch flipped. The manic set in. I set out to clean my 4 year old’s room. And did it all at once. I rearranged it, got rid of junk, organized her books, made her bed neatly, vacuumed, and organized her clothes. (as I hear the kids playing in her room, and I hope to hell it isn’t a wreck already!)

I’ve mopped, swept, vacuumed, did a ton of dishes, stripped our bed, started the laundry, and have no intentions of stopping. I’m just letting my phone charge up a bit before I switch the laundry, do more dishes, put the kitties in my room so I can open everything up…and then do some yard work.

I don’t know how long this will last, as there’s no formula for this. None. It could stick around until my psych appointment, or it could vanish the second I crawl into bed tonight. Who the fuck knows.

I’m feeling more creative. I signed up for a photography site and asked the other half to help me find a camera to save up for. I love taking pictures. I just have shit luck with things not breaking. Which I only have myself to blame.

I’m feeling more conscious about my impact on the world. I texted him about wanting to get more reusable straws, better water bottles (the ones I want give back- they donate profits to save the oceans), things like that. We buy in bulk, which I think is a good thing? Less packaging? Not sure. We also have a ton of reusable bags. Nerdy ones, of course! šŸ™‚

I have some sketch ideas for tonight. Once the kids are in bed, and I can draw in peace. Or I’ll never get past the first line XD

But, today is certainly a manic day.

And that is a very odd feeling when you cried yourself to sleep the night before over who knows what (seriously, it’s like my body was crying just because….idfk).



Truth Be Told

The truth is, it’s my fault I ran out of meds on Saturday morning. It’s my fault because I miscounted. It’s my fault that I thought that my psych would actually get back to my pharmacy in a timely manner, and that I wouldn’t have to call them.

The past few days have been a steady downfall for me. And it is a huge reminder that I will be on medication for the rest of my life.

I will never go a day without taking medication for my mood. I will never be able to function without them. I will never be free. I watched a video on ‘forgiving assholes’, just to not be chained to them anymore. I wish that was my case. I wish I could sever the chain that binds me to the assholes of my past. Mainly one. However, the need for medication makes that impossible.

While I am not actually suicidal at the moment, that moment isn’t too far off. The urge to just…give up is in my reach. The hopelessness is setting in. That life won’t get better. That I’ll forever be crushed under the weight of my eating disorder. That I’ll forever look in the mirror and want to sob. That I’ll never escape this horrible relationship I have with food. I’ll never know what it’s like to truly strive for something, because my mind holds me back. Don’t do that, you’ll fail. Don’t even try, you’ll make a fool of yourself! Don’t try to think you’ll ever amount to anything, you’re nothing. My mind is my own worst enemy.

I nearly bawled while texting Daddy about my eating disorder today. It’s not something we talk about- because I hate it. I hate that it controls me. I told him I don’t think I’ll ever be much smaller than I am. I bust my ass, and don’t lose much. I gain .2 and I feel disgusting, fat, gross, and unworthy. I gain, and I gain a lot in a short time. Since last week? I’ve gained a good 5 pounds. It takes over, and I find myself hating myself while I eat.

Then I’m left with the guilt afterwards. The stomach ache. The urge to curl into a ball and cry. It’s nothing new to me, either.

It’s 7:15, and it feels so much later because of the weight on my soul. I want to go to bed, but the sooner I go to bed, the sooner I am forced out of it. When you deal with mental illnesses, and parenting, it’s even harder.

I’m holding back tears because I’m so drained. I’m so done with myself.

I don’t want to ‘die’, I just don’t want to ‘be me’.



How to Tell it’s Getting Bad Again- with Chimichangas


Decided starting off with my favorite anti-hero would work well.

You’re probably wondering why I’m talking about chimichangas, right? Getting there, I promise.

I’ll start off by saying that I don’t think I feel depressed, but then again, it’s second nature at this point. *shrugs* Sometimes I don’t even notice until I’m out of the fog, other times I know it the entire time and I’m like “well, fuck”. That’s how the cookie crumbles (which, I hate. I hate crumbles *shudders*).

Our freezer is shot. Yup. It’s not freezing anymore! Wonderful. He told me to move things from the freezer to the fridge, as that still works just fine. I started to, and got discouraged because I couldn’t move much. We just went shopping, so our fridge is pretty darn full!

Next thing I know, I’m sitting here eating my chimichangas with sour cream. I remember making them, but I don’t recall the actual decision to do so. If that even makes sense. I wasn’t even hungry!

Today was pretty good, too. So I can’t even say I was stress eating after a bad day. We played outside in the puddles, we colored together, I got some dishes done, there was no arguing over homework, and my son earned computer time! So, what gives?!

I doubt any of how my mind works makes sense, either.

I’m just going to get through what I need to do. I need to tape up my friend’s package to ship tomorrow, write a letter for my new little pen pal, and I should probably shower.

But, I don’t even feel like doing that. Another way I can tell it’s going down hill. I love showers. Love them. So, when I have to either force myself to take one, or it gets to the point where my legs are fuzzy from lack of showering…it’s bad.

Gold star for trying though, right?



About Me, Life

Little space, and parenting

Little Space means many different things to different people, but generally speaking it is a type of head space that allows an adult to regress to an almost childlike state. Iā€™d like to stress that Little Space is not the same for every little, but here are a few words on what is commonly associated with Little Space.

In Little Space one may wish to partake in activities typically associated with childhood such as coloring, playing with toys/stuffies, finger painting, watching cartoons etc. These activities may be done alone, with other littles, or with a caregiver. Some littles may like to dress differently than they would during their public, adult life, for example in cute dinosaur t-shirts, or in cute dresses. Different littles may also have different little personalities when in Little Space; during regression one little may feel very excitable and hyper, while another is shy and sweet. One little may be downright naughty and bratty! This totally depends on what kind of little you are and how you feel.- DDLG World


Me writing about being a little really wouldn’t shock many. Not the ones closest to me. However, there’s this stigma, and negative mindset surrounding DDLG, and being a little. So, I’m writing about it. That, and my therapist was intrigued about the idea, and very enthusiastic about the entire thing when I opened up about it.

Many people think of DDLG (if they had even heard of it) as purely a sexual concept. It’s not. While many people in the lifestyle are sexual, some aren’t. Some use it as a therapy, and a stress relief. I also know that many people would cringe at thinking of a little as also a parent, let alone in the same moment. Yet, I do it.


Being a little has made me a better parent. As ‘big’ me, I despise messes, I don’t like getting dirty, I get bored with simple things, etc. It’s harder for me to relax. In little space, I paint more with them, I get messier, I’ll watch cartoons, and I play more games.

I feel free in little space, and I feel like *me*. As I’m writing this, I’m watching Rugrats. I watched all 3 movies in the last week, and it’s helped me a lot. It keeps me from thinking of the crap that brings me down.

I have a tote full of coloring supplies and I pull it out and set it up and go to town (although I’m always on the hunt for more coloring books). I put one of my stuffies on my lap, suck on a lollipop at times, and focus on the colors. I have a chore chart (which I have been neglecting…oops). I have stickers galore, stuffies (all named!), and have kids’ plates/cups/eating utensils. Today I had a Kids Cuisine for lunch. The other day I had dino nuggets and mac and cheese. Sometimes the simplest foods are the tastiest.

My best friend gets my little space talk all the time, and has never judged me for it, which is awesome.

I do call my other half ‘Daddy’, in the cute sense. Not the kink way. He’s under “Daddycakes” in my phone<3 I text him about stuffies, princesses, Disney, and more on top of the usual boring stuff and weight loss stuff. Sometimes little space and parenting texts combine (like when the kids got hot sauce on my favorite stuffie!!! and he saved the day).

Yesterday I let myself slip into little space and have a sing and dance along with Lilith. We danced and sung around to Beauty and the Beast, despite me having laundry to fold. I get very into PBSKids. Mainly OddSquad. I squealed when the Kratt Brothers were on OddSquad today. And then proceeded to text Daddy about it.

I will sometimes share my special cereal (it’s limited edition, so I don’t eat it too fast, either) with the kids to watch them get all excited over it. It’s cupcake flavored cereal, so the excitement is warranted.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I has a headache. I’m gonna go watch Rugrats until bedtime.