As with any teenager, I learned that having a job was a hassle, yet it provided the cash flow necessary to “be” a teenager. I worked for a couple years at a local amusement park and tended children on the side. This is where the “June Cleaver” fairy tale took a sharp and unexpected south bound detour.  I realized that I detest children. I know what you are thinking, but don’t judge me too quickly. I love children and think they are beautiful gifts from God, but I hate the screaming, crying, whining, projectile vomiting, gas emitting, pooping garbage that comes along with them. Puppies are cute, babies are cute, but I realized that I just didn't have it in me to take on such a full time commitment. Even at the age of 16, I realized that a child would be a life long commitment. I decided that I could just admire them from a distance and thus ended my babysitting career and “white picket fence” fantasy.... or so I though!!

My mother is too AMAZING for words. She has the patience of Job (yeah, the bible dude) and if it weren't for her unconditional love and understanding, I would not have survived the hellish nightmare that was about to come. At the ripe YOUNG age of 17 sitting on a cold table in the doctor's office holding her hand, I found myself knocked up. Anyone who believes it can’t happen to them, or that it can’t happen the first time is brain dead and shouldn't procreate. It can, will and does happen, I am living proof. So, there I was; 17 & pregnant, still in high school, not speaking to the baby daddy, and scared to death as I was carrying inside me the very thing I detest most in the world. Not as much as I despise lima beans and brussel sprouts mind you…but close.

My love of Martha came quite unexpectedly…

My family tree is trimmed with a cultural heritage to be proud of. The German, Welsh, & Swiss cultures adorn the paternal tree with unwavering strength, stability and wisdom, while the Italian, French & Spanish (Spain) cultures add to it a magnificent maternal mixture of light, beauty and flare.

My family tree is a proverbial bag of mixed nuts and fruit to say the least. Each culture brings a vast array of food for the tummy, knowledge for the mind and strength for the soul. Believe me, I CAN COOK. I dreamed as a little girl that I would someday grow into “June Cleaver” and have my own “white picket fence” fairy tale. You can laugh all you want, but it’s true. 

My mother taught my 3 sisters and myself to cook, clean, and keep house from a very young age. She taught us about our rich heritage and how to be ladies. She is a remarkable woman who married the perfect man. Yes ladies, the perfect man DOES exist!! My daddy is my hero…he and I have always had a special connection. We share a love of the outdoors, sports, books and political views. We argue, but what can I say, we are just too much alike sometimes. Growing up was an adventure and we had an amazing childhood. My beautiful sisters grew into elegant women, as did I; the only difference is that I am laced with a “tomboyish” streak just like my mother. 

Welcome; Come on in, kick off your shoes and stay a while...

I’m Not Martha, believe me...I hear it all the time. I’m not the most elegant gal on the block either; I’m a gun loving, God fearing, country loving, opinionated American woman.  I consider jeans, a tank top, jacket, scarf and high heels fashionable. My favorite pair of shoes you ask? Running shoes… I used to drink, smoke and say “f**K” a lot, now I just say “f**K”.

I am an intravenous coffee drinker, a habitual ice & gum chewing,  tattooed girl next door, and my body is the canvas where I am able to express myself freely.  Home is where I dwell. My home is not to be confused with a house. My home is made up of 4 walls that shelter, protect and comfort my beautiful family. It is a dwelling of love, compassion, chaos, destruction and bliss. We laugh, we cry, we fight with each other and FOR each other. Some days it’s so clean you could perform open heart surgery on the bathroom tile, and other days we could land the top spot on “Hoarders”. We are a family and this home is our fortress from the helter-skelter of the world outside. 

I probably won’t win “Mother of the Year” or anything, but my trio of angels are certain beyond a doubt that this mama bear will protect them no matter what comes our way. I rant & rave, some days I am a pushover, other days I am the overly pushy one . Breakfast for dinner is the most popular meal in our home. We live in the real world, and sometimes it bites us in the ass. We are a team and no one gets voted off our island. 

As a single mother, I had to fight to survive. I learned along the way different tips and tricks to make my money, food, and everything else we needed go further. It’s still a struggle at times and I don’t see that changing anytime soon, however, we have goals and with a bit of grit and determination we WILL claim our 5 acre patch of paradise.  Adversity builds character and strength. WE ARE FIGHTERS!! At the end of the day we don’t have much, but together we have it all. I am practically imperfect in every way but that’s what makes me perfect. 

No… I’m NOT Martha, but she would LOVE me if she met me…