where is the love?

*Insert long, dramatic sigh..*  I have really been putting off posting this week.  I honestly just told myself, screw it, I’m not writing this week.  Partly because I’m in the finish line of this pregnancy, and I have a ton going on.  By “a ton” I mean picking out granny panties for after I give birth (shoutout to the random lady in Walmart for helping me.  I can make friends anywhere!).  I’ve also been getting all my photo sessions fully culled, edited, and products delivered so I don’t have to worry about it after Avery is absorbing all my time.  I’m on maternity leave from Maurices, and I’m bored!  I guess not bored enough to sit down and write a blog though, apparently.  Okay, honestly I haven’t written because it’s been such an incredibly sad week for this country.  I didn’t want my words to just get mixed in with everyone’s.  A talented artist was shot and killed, 50 people are dead from a mass shooting, and a baby is killed by an alligator?!  Jesus, prayers to the state of Florida right now.  I’m not going to sit here and tell you my belief on gun laws, or homosexuality.  Why would that matter to you?  We all believe what we believe, end of story.

I want to meet my daughter.  I can’t wait to just hold her, snuggle her, feel how soft her skin is, and smell that sweet smell that only a newborn has.  Trust me, I’m anxious.  At the same time though, this world she is about to enter is cruel and disgusting.  So so so much hatred.  Part of me just wants Avery to stay safely tucked inside my tummy where nothing bad can touch her.  People are dying.  Convicted rapists are getting SIX FUCKING MONTHS in jail.  I guess I’m struggling lately with feeling kind of lost.  I hope it comes natural to me, but right now I have no clue how to raise a little girl in a world like this.  I want her to be smart, use her brain, and form her own opinions.  I hope the she makes those opinions with an open mind and a gentle heart, but isn’t that what’s scary?  To me it seems the open minded people are considered weak when really we are the tough ones.  Racists, homophobes, terrorists…do you know what they all have in common?  Fear.  Think about that one.

I don’t know you guys, I guess I’m just worried.  There is hate everywhere.  A little boy falls into a gorilla pit.  People hate the mother of the little boy.  They hate the zoo.  There’s a mass shooting.  People hate guns, people hate the people who hate guns.  People suddenly hate muslims, people hate the people who hate muslims.  People hate the homosexuals, people hate the homophobes.  People hate Obama, and they hate people who support him.  They hate Trump, and his followers.  People hate Hilary, and they hate you if you support her.  People hate abortion.  People hate feminism.  They hate anything they don’t believe in.  Fuck it’s never ending.  I don’t suspect this will change any time soon.  I won’t sit here and tell you what you should believe, but I will say that we shouldn’t hate one another for believing differently.

Right now, I hate that there isn’t more love.  Shit do I sound like a hippy?  Everyone needs to place blame.  They need to blame someone or something to make things make sense and to feel safe.  I get that, and sometimes we are right to place the blame.  You rape someone, you go to jail.  What does the rapist do though?  Blame the alcohol.  Blame the victim.

Is anything I’m rambling about making sense?  Maybe it doesn’t need to.  These are just my thoughts on why I’m scared to raise a good kid in a bad world.  I think it starts with me though, I want Avery to learn about being kind from me.  I want her to see being open minded and loving everyone will get you hurt from time to time, but that it’s still the right thing.  I want her to know that forgiveness is necessary, not for the other person but for herself.  It takes time sometimes, but doing the right thing will always get her places.

I guess I’m done rambling for the evening.  Homophobes, stop reading this now…..

as the wise, funny, and remarkable Ellen Degeneres says, “Be kind to one another”.





my big fat pregnant night out

It’s funny that me “going out” is something I feel like blogging about.  This used to be me….Every weekend, where’s the party?  Why not though?  I’m young, and I liked a good time!  Getting pregnant obviously changes things.  No, I don’t enjoy going out the same way I used to right now.  I’m not saying you won’t see me out at all after baby girl gets here, (momma needs a winery trip in a bad way) but I know that those BIG party days are behind me.  I’m completely fine with this.  I mean, I spent Friday night having dinner with my family and taking a bubble bath with my six month old niece.  It was a perfect evening in my opinion.  Saturday though, I had plans that required me to leave the comfort of my home. Shocking right?

Kelsey, my wonderful boss at Maurices is getting married next weekend so a couple girls I work with and I wanted to take her out!  Let me start by saying I had to make sure I took a nap before I even started this adventure, which is hilarious to me.  I do my hair and make up and put on this new top I just bought.  *gasp* I even wore heels!  Before I even leave my sister jokes that I don’t even look pregnant because the top I’m wearing is so flowy.  I gave her a little hair flip and tell her that yeah I’m basically a goddess, and I roll out.  So I go pick up Brittany, another girl I work with, and here’s where things get fun.  I have a huge six foot inflatable penis.  This thing has been to a few bachelorette parties before.  It has even survived my sisters bachelorette float trip… A six foot blow up dick floating down Black River… Can you imagine?!  So I’m forcing her to blow it up on our way to meet up with the girls.  Poor Britt is in literal pain from blowing it up, and she had to move her seat back and recline it to even get the giant thing to blow up all the way.  We are passing all these vehicles, and of course they are all staring like we are insane.  Meanwhile we’re just dying laughing.  I was literally driving down 67 with blown up testicles in my face.  We get to our first destination, and I watch as they do shots and order drinks.  Kels gets a few embarrassing gifts, and we laugh our asses off just telling stories and eating cupcakes.  Our drinks all have funny labels, and they find it humorous to give my pregnant ass the one that says “virgin”…but whatever I’m a good sport, and I sip my Dr Pepper out of my penis straw like a boss.  We stick around for awhile before we decide to head to our next destination.  Two of these bitches just bring their pitchers of sangrias with them, so this is just a shit show waiting to happen!

We get to the next place, and it’s pretty low key. There’s literally like four older people and a big group of guys.  Come to find out, the guys are from St Louis, and for some reason none of us understood they came down here for their friends bachelor party.  It took maybe five minutes before a few of them were over at our table.  Here’s what’s hilarious okay….. Kels is the bachelorette (unavailable), Kacee was sitting there with her girlfriend Chels (unavailable), Britt has a boyfriend (unavailable), and I’m nine months pregnant (uninterested) and these poor drunk guys don’t even notice.  We were all dying laughing about this, and I think the guys thought we found them funny.  Sorry bro.  One of them was standing close to Chels, and she literally gives him a little push, as in “dude get out of my space”.. Another one starts bragging to me that they’re doctors, and I swear I almost stuck out my stomach and said “GREAT so if I go into labor, you can help right?!”  How do these guys not realize I’m pregnant?!  Eventually they get the hint that we aren’t interested, and they go away.  There’s a super talented guy playing guitar and singing, and I wish I knew his name, but I honestly have no clue.  He’s asking us what we wanted to hear and playing suggestions from the crowd.  He didn’t know how to play “my neck, my back”….. I asked.  The giant penis was a huge hit here as well.  It was a little strange how many grown men had it on the dance floor. What is it about a big blown up wiener that makes people act a fool?

At one point I just sat there and was kind of in shock at how much I have changed as a person.  This place used to be my stomping grounds.  Even though I was sitting here having fun, it was a different kind of fun I was having.  I wasn’t worried about how I was getting home, how much money I was wasting on alcohol, or how I was going to feel the next day.  I was having fun, being myself, and I just felt happy.  I left a little before midnight, and ate a bowl of cookie crisps in bed.  No one was upset about my departure or made a big deal about it.  I appreciated that more than anything.

I am honestly proud of this woman I’m becoming.  I’m content and just relaxed.  I feel like I’m really settling into the role of being someone’s mother.  As scary as that is, I just feel like myself.  I’m still the fun, adventure loving girl I always have been. So many people are too insecure to be alone, and it’s honestly one of my favorite traits about myself.  I don’t need the constant attention from the opposite sex to feel like I’m worth a shit because I know what I’m worth.  Simple as that.

Motherhood will be the coolest adventure I get to go on, and I’m pretty thankful I have friends around me that love and support the real me.  Friends who don’t get mad when I want to leave because I want to eat cereal in bed.  Friends who carry around a six foot penis with no shame at all, are the friends for me!  It’s called balance…Is it weird for me to advise you guys to find penis toting friends who let you leave the party early?  Oh well!  The point is, surround yourself with people who love the real you!  My heart is happier for it.

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avery’s space

Well I am 30 days from my due date.  I have finally packed my hospital bag, put away all Avery’s clothes, and I go on maternity leave in 10 days.  Technically I’m ready to go, but my brain hasn’t caught up yet.  Today I met with a breastfeeding counselor, and I think I’m more nervous about being able to breastfeed than actually pushing a child out of my privates.  I’m pretty determined which has to help right?  I just really want to succeed at this.  Please don’t think I have anything at all against moms who don’t or can’t breastfeed.  That’s ridiculous.  If your baby has a full tummy, you’re doing a kickass job!  Speaking of kickass… You guys, my nursery turned out better than I imagined!  I still can’t believe Avery’s room is the same room I grew up in.  I became who I am in this room.  I threw tantrums in this room.  I cried over my very first heartbreak in this room.  I wrote about boys in a diary in here.  Shit, I lived in here with my ex husband while we were house hunting once.  After my divorce the room held so many memories that I couldn’t even go in let alone sleep in there, so I took the room connected to it since my sister was moved out and married.  Now not only do I not feel hurt or anger or really anything negative about the room, I love it and I want to just be in it constantly.  I can’t wait to watch Avery grow, and I’m so thankful she has a place of her own.

So when I found out I was pregnant with a girl I knew I wasn’t going to do your basic “pink” nursery. No princess stuff, or anything like that.  I didn’t want her room to look like a Babies R Us ad.  No thanks dude.  Not for me.  Instead I opted for a super fun, eclectic room. I wanted bold colors everywhere and mixed patterns that don’t really make sense but in here they do.  I wanted her to have a room that could easily grow with her.  I wanted to use the bright colors and really stimulate her brain.  Her dad and I are both extremely artist and more free spirited kind of people so I’m going to assume she will be too!  I think this space is fit for a creative little girl with a beautiful soul.  I hope to add things to it as she grows and watch her come to know herself in this room just like I did.  Shoutout to my amazing family and friends also!  My dad put down new floors, built bookshelves, and he and my mom painted everything.  Thank you to my uncle Jake and cousin Hailey, for meeting up with a stranger on Craigslist to get me this nursery chair!  Brett and Cassie, you guys are wonderful!  Brett gave me the dresser (it turned out amazing), and he and Cassie helped move it into the room!  They also helped me shop for a month straight finding perfect pieces for the room!  Roxanne, thanks for the nightstand and for sanding the dresser, I love you dearly!  And Katie and Derek who gave me their little Emma’s crib.  You guys mean the world to me!

Seriously, just the support I have around me warms my heart like you can’t imagine.  You all have healed me, and I feel truly blessed to know such amazing people.  Now all this room needs is Avery!


keep going

I have been told countless times how “strong” I am.  It’s a wonderful compliment, and I’m glad that’s how so many people see me.  I can’t lie to you guys though, I don’t feel “strong” at all.  What is “strong” anyway?  Is it the way we handle our situations?  Is it simply not giving up?  I don’t know.

I think about this all the time.  I think all of you are strong.  I know beautiful souls who have fought and are fighting life threatening diseases.  YOU are strong.  I know families of some of those beautiful souls who have lost that person.  YOU are strong.  Single mommas, single dads. Y’all are strong!  The wonderfully blessed family, who are happy and together and just welcomed a new addition….you are strong.  People are overcoming or have overcame addictions.  Somewhere a teenage girl is going through her very first break up.  There are men and women fighting overseas and some won’t be coming home alive.  Strength is measured a number of ways.


I don’t think you have to be going through a shitty situation like mine to be considered “strong” or “brave”.  It takes on many forms.  Sometimes it’s simply locking yourself in the bathroom for a good cry because your boss snapped at you, and you came home to a messy house where your kids refused to eat what you just made for dinner.  Take five minutes, cry it out, but remember that you are strong.  We all have it inside of us.  It takes strength to do the right thing even when it’s not what we want to do.

Sometimes when people tell me that I am so strong, I want to laugh because I feel like they are only thinking; “Wow you got divorced after a 6 year relationship, only to find love again, get pregnant and then get dumped again..while pregnant.  What a shitty hand you were dealt.”  Maybe I have this strength because of all that.  Maybe I’m an asshole for assuming you guys think that way when you are only trying to give me a compliment.  I guess going through that stuff does make me a stronger person, but damn just because I can handle heartbreak doesn’t mean I deserve it.  I like to think this is all just molding me into who I am meant to be.


One thing I will always have though, is a beautiful outlook on life.  It does take strength to stay optimistic.  So a couple guys walked away.  Okay.  Big deal.  Listen, if we define ourselves or our self worth by other people we will live unhappily for the rest of our days.  We get ONE LIFE.  ONE.  I want to believe my “happily ever after” will happen eventually.  Of course I want that, but in the meantime you better believe I am going to love the life I am living.  I am hopeful about the future and all it holds, and I am excited about the present too.  Find what makes you happy and spend a lot of time there.  It sounds so cheesy to say “find your happy place” but do it.  Whatever your “happy place” may be, make sure it’s healthy and that it is making you a happier and better person.

Look around, we are all struggling with something.  We are also all stronger than we feel.  It’s as simple as that.  You are strong, even when you don’t feel like it, you are.

“I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.”



mean girls turn into bitter women



We all know by now, girls are mean.  No matter the age, girls are just plain mean to one another.  It never really ends, whether you are 15 and not carrying a Michael Kors bag, 25 and not married yet, or 45 and having marital problems.  You’ll get talked about.  Age doesn’t matter.  Little girls, teenage girls, and grown ass women can be vicious creatures.  Obviously not all of us are spawns of Satan himself, but y’all know damn well we have all had our moments.  I will admit first hand, that although I legitimately try to be a good person and be nice to people, sometimes I’m a judge mental asshole.  I’m working on it though, which is more than I can say for some women.

Lately, I have heard the words “Pinterest mom” a lot.  No one has said this meaning anything bad.  They’re just saying things like, “Your nursery looks like a PINTEREST nursery!”.  I have heard, “You’re gonna be one of those PINTEREST moms.” at least five different times.  I never took that as a bad thing really.  Well this week I read this woman’s blog about her take on “Pinterest moms”, and damn this woman was angry.  Basically the entire thing was bashing the moms that go overboard on the birthday parties, that do over the top Valentine boxes, and DIY halloween costumes instead of store bought ones.  She has so much hatred for this fellow mother because she made cookies from scratch for a bake sale instead of buying some from Costco like she did.  She thinks Pinterest has created some kind of “standard” and that if you don’t measure up you’re less of a mom.  I desperately want to choke this lady and hug her at the same time.

Look, I don’t set out to make anyone else look bad or feel like they aren’t “measuring up”.  Do we have to beat each other down about literally everything?  Some of us are just creative people.  It’s in my DNA.  I have always been this way.  I get it directly from my wonderful momma.  Pinterest doesn’t have a thing to do with it!  My mom was coming up with GENIUS ideas for Valentine boxes and helping me create one LONG before Pinterest was a thing.  I had cool, “outside the box” birthday parties because my mom’s brain thinks OUTSIDE THE BOX.  It’s just who we are.  I couldn’t give a shit less if you want to get a shoe box and let your child stick stickers all over it and take it to school on Valentine’s day.  Was your child super proud of it?  Did you help and have a great time together doing it?  THAT’S the point.  My mom and I spent good, quality time making my school projects and that’s what matters.  On Halloween, we usually had funny DIY costumes from things around the house.  I never argued because I realized early on that my mom was good at this stuff.  I wanted to be Britney Spears for Halloween when I was like 10.  Are you telling me that because my mom could successfully make me a microphone out of pipe cleaners that she’s a bitch for trying to “out do” the moms who bought a plastic microphone from Walmart?  For real?  Get out of here with that shit.

Pinterest was just a gift to all of us creative people because we can get new ideas and share our own.  It’s not a fucking cult created to make you feel stupid or incompetent.  If you can’t bake cookies go buy some, but that mom who made them from scratch… did you ever think that maybe that’s her favorite thing to do?  It’s just her hobby.  Maybe her grandma or her mom taught her, and she has always loved to bake with her son or daughter.  Don’t be an asshole, just eat her cookies or brownies or whatever.  You know they taste better than your store bought ones.

Is that the problem?  Are you pissed off because hers are better?  Are you mad that my kids Valentine box looks like a replica of Darth Vader, and your kid just covered a shoe box in stickers of Yoda?  WHO CARES.  Your kid will not remember the box.  Your kid will remember you guys together picking out the stickers and searching for the box you would use.  He or she will remember how much fun it was spending time with you.

As women and as mothers, we need to be lifting each other up.  We need to be more worried about raising our kids to be decent human beings rather than calling Stacey to bitch about Sarah’s oatmeal raisin cookies.  I want to raise a strong, successful woman.  I will do that by being an example of one.  If I buy store bought cookies, I’ll make sure to buy Avery’s favorite kind!  If she wants to make her Halloween costume I will take on that challenge, but if she wants to be a dinosaur that she finds at Target then dinosaur it is.  I just can’t promise I won’t jazz it up with some bows or something.  😉

Maybe I am a “Pinterest mom”, or maybe I’m just a creative mom who thinks outside the box.  Either way, I’m just out here trying like the rest of you.  I’m sure I’ll be hiding in the bathroom with a Hershey’s bar and a bottle of wine in no time!  Isn’t that where most of us end up anyway?

“Behind every successful woman is a tribe of other successful women, who have her back.”

news and nostalgia

News first right?? Welllllllllll, Friday I turned 32 weeks.  So I thought anyway… Turns out after an ultrasound that I’m measuring closer to 35 weeks, and my baby girl is already almost 6 pounds!  I about had an anxiety attack in front of the ultrasound tech!  I’m picturing a huge ten pound baby, which is fine if she’s healthy, but rest in peace to my vagina because ouch.  After the appointment my parents and I went to Lowes and got flooring for her room and my brain was in overdrive.  I’m thinking about everything that still needs to be done and wondering just how soon this little gal is going to actually be here.

Suddenly my heart just starts beating so fast and hard as I realize… Oh my god.  I’m ready to be a mom… I am ready.  No, her nursery isn’t ready but I am.  I’m ready to put another person before my own wants and needs. I’m ready for sleepless nights and complete exhaustion.  Im ready to kiss boo boos and wipe tears. I’m ready to wear spit up like a badge of honor.  I’m ready for this baby.  I’m ready to meet her.  It’s so terrifying… Knowing my life is about to change.  People have said I am about to know joy that I can’t imagine and I believe them. It’s just a hard thing to grasp when she is just squirming inside me.   I am ready to hold this little girl who has my blood running through her veins.

Lately I’ve been thinking about all of the things I want to instill in my daughter.  I’ve really been reflecting on my own childhood.

When I was eight years old I remember swinging on my grandma’s porch swing.  We sat out there and sang to each other all the time.  She usually changed the words in songs so my name was in them.  One of her favorites went…

“I love little baby ducks

Old pick up trucks

Slow movin trains, and rain

And I love Bailey too”

She did this for all of her grandkids and still does.

On this day we were swinging and I was singing LeAnn Rimes to her.   I told her I was going to move to Nashville and be a country star. Her response was, “you should baby.. Just don’t forget about your grandma when you get famous.”  I know now that neither one of us realized how important that moment was.  She just believed in me.  She completely believed I could do whatever I wanted, so at that very moment so did I.  I obviously don’t have a music career, but that’s not really the point.  Instilled in me, is the belief that I can do anything.

I’m trying to remember the age I stopped asking my mom to tuck me in for bed.  She did it every night, and I can’t remember for the life of me when I stopped feeling like I needed her to.  Every night I crawled into bed and yelled for her.  She tucked the covers around me, and some nights she would sing,

“You are my sunshine

my only sunshine

you make me happy

when skies are gray

you’ll never know dear

how much I love you

so please don’t take my sunshine away”

My favorite part of this little ritual we shared was some nights she would let me choose which music style she would sing the song in. Country, rock, or opera it didn’t matter I would choose, and she would sing it that way.   I would laugh my ass off.  No matter how she sang it I fell asleep with a smile.

Perhaps the only time my ability to sing on key will come in handy is when I’m singing those same words to my girl, but I hope that instilled in her is the knowledge that I will always tuck her in if she wants me to.  I will always be a place of comfort for her to run to when the world gets to be too much.  I hope she knows that she IS the sunshine in my day, and my love for her is never ending.  I can’t wait to give her the memories she will look back on one day!


mondays and moms

Am I the only freak in existence that actually ENJOYS that “Monday morning” feeling?  I love it.  I have a small do to list next to my computer, and I add to it throughout the week.  Monday’s I’m usually sitting here, drinking coffee, and telling myself I’ll get through almost the entire list.  It’s usually Wednesday’s or Thursday’s I don’t enjoy as much because I am having that “oh shit” moment when I realize I didn’t get as much done as I planned.   It’s the same every week, but hey at least I’m setting goals and trying to accomplish them.  They’ll get done eventually.

This week’s list includes:

finish final edits of photoshoots

deliver product

get nursery painted

get crib put together

buy mother’s day cards

3d ultrasound friday

prom photos saturday

Even typing that list I still find myself wanting to add to it.  I need to finish reading this vaccination book, and also put all of Avery’s clothes into her finally finished dresser.  If I get three to four things crossed off that list I will consider this week a success.  I am an overachiever, but I don’t go to hard on myself for not accomplishing everything.  I’m not super woman.  Speaking of SUPER WOMEN…

Sunday is Mother’s Day.  So of course I’m feeling emotional.  Emotional and thankful.  So many of you are amazing moms, and it’s so intimidating.  Yesterday, I was sitting in Avery’s empty nursery which happens to be my former high school bedroom.  I also happened to be sitting in the same rocking chair that my mom rocked me in.  My dad’s mom, Nancy, bought it for her when she was pregnant with me.  I don’t remember my grandma Nan.  She died right before my first birthday, but I am told all the time how much she loved me.  Is it weird that I feel like I can feel her love?  There is something so poetic and beautiful there.  Anyway, I’m just sitting there looking around feeling so nostalgic.  Suddenly my very pregnant self wanted to burst into tears.  I didn’t want to cry for any reason other than how blessed and lucky I am.  My mom helped me pack away things I didn’t need right now, and my dad carried them off to store them.  I watched my dad tear up old carpet, and my mom went to buy paint.  They just did this stuff without any reservations.  It wasn’t a question to them, that they wanted to be here and support and help me.  No, being 24 and living at home isn’t every girls dream, but how amazingly blessed am I that in my situation this is an option for me?  They have never made me feel like I was in the way.  After a divorce and a horrible break up – I come with a lot of baggage…..literally.  I have more stuff than I know what to do with!  For the past few years they have just taken everything in stride and told me that things are going to be fine, and they are right.  Every time I have felt like a failure whether it be with my marriage or now with my family, they have pushed me to do what is best for myself.  I can 100% say without a doubt that I would not make it without my parents.

I look down and rub my tummy and wonder what kind of mom I will be.  Of course I want to be more than a good mom.  I want so much for Avery.  Growing up happy is not something to take for granted.  My mom faced battles when I was growing up that I didn’t even know about, but she still made my childhood everything I could ever hope for.  She might not realize it, but I remember the small things as well as the big.  On St. Patricks day she turned my cereal milk green.  She left me notes in my lunchbox that always made me giggle.  She sent me flowers to school for NOT winning something.  This woman can drive me nuts, and we can fight like no other, but at same time she is my best friend.  The impact she has made on my life simply by being an amazing mom is something I will hold in my heart forever.  I admire this woman more than anyone knows.

If you are lucky enough to still have your mom in your life go hug her, tell her you love the shit out of her, and let her know she is appreciated.  Family is everything, and I am so thankful to be blessed with mine.  You don’t realize how important a happy childhood is, until you’re all grown up and thankful you have those memories to hold onto no matter where the rest of your life takes you.  Thank you mom, for giving me a wonderful example to follow in raising my own daughter.







“There are moments I know I will long for, even as I live them.” -Judith Katzir



I’m laughing.  I am laughing so damn hard.  You guys, you don’t even know.  I’m going to tell you why I’m laughing, but first let me rewind a bit…

So everyday is different right?  Some days, like yesterday for example, are wonderful.  I woke up feeling like I can take on the world.  I can do damn near anything I want.  Then, there are days like today.  I woke up so pissed off.  I sat down here, turned on Beyonce’s new album, and I just went to town on this keyboard.  Angry typing my feelings away.  I didn’t hold back.  I said everything I was feeling.  Now, don’t get me wrong I am all about sharing exactly how I am feeling.  I don’t want you guys to think, “Well Bailey, you are supposed to be ‘uncensored’.”   You’re right.  I am a very uncensored person, and I hope you all know that I do share my uncensored and raw thoughts and feelings with you.  Aside from being uncensored though, I strive to also be graceful.  Hence the name, gracefullyuncensored.  Basically, I want to share my thoughts in a funny and real way while still staying true to the person that I am.  The reason I angry typed those words was simply to make myself feel better.  I knew the entire time I was writing them that they would never reach your eyes.  I’m okay with that.  Those words weren’t ME.  They were how I was feeling ten minutes ago.  They were very Carrie Underwood with a louisville slugger in her black cadillac meets Miranda Lambert holding a smoking gun and a gallon on kerosene.    Bitches be crazy.

Anyway, I write all these words right?  They are actually really good.  So I’m sitting here staring at them and reading them over and over wishing that everyone could read the truth of what I really want to say.  I’m sitting here pondering what to do.  Is there a way I can tone down the crazy and get these words out there?  Nope.  Should I just post this and not care about anyone’s feelings?  What should I do?  Now here’s why I instantly started laughing my ass off.  As I am sitting here thinking, “What should I do?” I look up, and hanging right above my computer is this…..


WWBD?  What would Beyonce do?

Mind you, I am sitting here listening to her new album which is basically entirely about being lied to and cheated on.  She puts Jay Z on BLAST.  In the video for “Hold Up” she literally walks through the streets just bashing in car windows and laughing.  Let me share some of the lyrics for yall…

Can’t you see there’s no other man above you?
What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you
Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you
Oh now they don’t love you like I love you

Something don’t feel right
Cause it ain’t right
Especially comin’ up after midnight
I smell your secret, and I’m not too perfect
To ever feel this worthless
How did it come down to this?
Going through your call list
I don’t wanna lose my pride, but I’ma fuck me up a bitch
Know that I kept it sexy and know I kept it fun
Something that I’m missing might be my head for one

What’s worse, lookin’ jealous or crazy?
Jealous and crazy…
Or like been walked all over lately, walked all over lately
I’d rather be crazy…

So this song is playing, I’m wondering what to do about my angry words, I look up and see “What would Beyonce do?” right in front of my face, and I LOSE IT.  I choked on my coffee I was laughing so hard.  Obviously, Beyonce doesn’t give a fuck.  I shouldn’t either, but here’s the difference.  I’M NOT BEYONCE.  That’s why I was laughing so hard.  I’m not the queen of everything.  The reason I am not posting my angry words is because when I lay down tonight I will fall asleep knowing that I did the right thing.  Sharing the ugly side and the truth of my situation won’t really help anyone, will it?  I am going to fall asleep tonight knowing I did what was best.  While it would be nice for other’s to have the same respect, they are the ones who get to live with the choices they have made.  Props to Queen B, because it takes strength to tell the world, “My man cheated and lied.”  Her man is also trying to right his wrongs, and he is still backing her up.  Which is pretty noble in my opinion.


I’m proud that I know who I am and what I stand for.  I know myself enough to know that had I just said “fuck it” and posted what I originally wrote, I would have regretted it.  I might have very little respect for the people it was concerning, but I have a TON of respect for the family of one of those people.  I love them, and they know the truth as do all of my close friends.  That’s what’s important to me.  So I’ll just be over here belting out some new Beyonce tunes and keeping my hateful words to myself.


“I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.  I only have to follow my heart and concentrate on what I want to say to the world.  I run my world.” -Beyonce



What the f*ck is going on with my belly button?

The inevitable is happening.  Don’t worry guys, I’m handling things rather well.  I mean I’m pregnant right?  My body is changing in ways that only mean I’m creating life so I’m totally embracing it like a badass.  I’m discovering some stretch marks here and there. Big deal. My feet swell after a long day. Who cares? I have to prop up my stomach to sleep at night. Not even mad.  But seriously what the fuck is happening with my belly button? For real. Not cool.  My pre preggo belly button was damn cute. This one looks like a butthole.  Is this one of those times where I’m being unrealistically hard on myself? Probably. Damn it Bailey, stop looking at it. For real though, will this go back to normal? Or should I start saving for belly button reconstructive surgery?  Should I hold a memorial service for my old belly button?  I’m kidding obviously.
 This reminds me of when I was kid.  One of my asshole classmates told me my big toe was shaped like a thumb, and for some reason I NEVER owned a pair of sandals after that. I’m talking all through school. I owned every color of Chuck Taylor’s ever made, but if you thought I would slide my feet into a pair of sandals you got it wrong.  I had an extreme complex.  What the hell did I think people did, just stare at my feet?  Don’t we all have weird things we don’t like about ourselves though?  It’s usually stuff that literally NO ONE else notices too.
Anyway, I think I bought my first pair of flip flops when I was like 21.  My mom was all, “Hallelujah! Thank you God, my daughter is a normal girl finally!!”  It was seriously like I woke up one day and didn’t give a shit what my toes looked like.  (I actually have really cute feet, I swear!)  We should all carry that mentality with us.  No time for make up today? Who gives a shit.  Decided to eat ice cream instead of hitting the gym? YAS BITCH.  Have a full agenda for the day and binge watch Netflix instead?  You go Glen Coco!
We have to stop being so hard on ourselves.  We should wake up everyday with a purpose, and if things don’t go perfectly it’s FINE.  It’s okay to cut yourself some slack.  I’m not just talking about appearances here people!  If you have a shitty day, pour yourself a glass of wine.. Or five.  Here’s why I decided to start giving myself a break.  I deserve one.  Pretty mind blowing and scientific right?  Well you deserve a break too.  Chill out, put things on hold without beating yourself up.  If you’re having a tougher time than most, throw yourself a pity party.  Throw that pity party, but leave it early with your head held high.  It’s totally okay to feel a little sorry for yourself or your situation.  Have a breakdown, but make sure you don’t stay in that frame of mind.  Fix your mascara, reapply that lipstick, and realize that you are worth more than whatever you are faced with.
If I can love my “mom bod” then you can love and embrace your weird traits too.  Remember, I’m not like a regular mom, I’m a cool mom.  Okay, wow enough with the Mean Girls quotes right?  I’m getting on my own nerves now.  Go be happy and love yourself!  Oh, and for goodness sake WEAR SANDALS IF YOU WANT TO WEAR SANDALS.

that new new

To say my life has gone according to plan is comical anymore.  Even my weekends don’t go according to plan these days. Four days ago if you asked what I would be doing Saturday I would have said working a closing shift, then going home to binge watch a series on Netflix and spoon my dog. Well here I am, four days later, and I’m sitting in a beach chair listening to the waves in Daytona. What is it about watching the waves that gets your mind pondering? I’m looking down at my swollen tummy, it twitches as my daughter nudges me. My daily reminder that I have something to wake up for everyday for the rest of life. Even on the tough days.
Sometimes I can wear a smile all day. I believe in my heart that I can do it alone, and some days I hold my head high knowing that. But there are other days. Some days my body feels like cement as I force myself to get up, I look forward to my breaks at work just so I can cry. I need to get it out just to go about the rest of my day. I don’t always cry because I’m almost 8 months pregnant and alone. Mostly I cry because I’m angry with myself for being such a trusting person. I’m angry that I always see good in people, that I expect everyone to do what’s right. And I cry because I miss him. I miss what we had, and where we were headed. I miss the comfort of knowing we had each other.  I cry because I don’t know him anymore.  I cry because I’m terrified. Terrified my daughter will have questions that I won’t know how to answer. I remember being probably 8 weeks pregnant and having this sudden realization that he could leave at any time, and it’s MY life that is affected. With fear I realized he gets to carry on and have his life continue, unchanged if he wanted…but no, that would never happen to me right? I remember talking to a single mom one night. She was bragging on her son, and her eyes literally lit up when she talked about him.  She mentioned that she loved every part of being a mom, but it just felt like something was missing. I looked across the room at the man I love, and I thought about how lucky I was that I never had to know that feeling. Our love was the one thing I felt sure of. I wouldn’t have to go through what she is……..
My stomach is jumping again like Avery’s reminding me she’s right here with me. She always does that at the perfect time. I like to think we are already in tune with one another. It’s about the only comfort that I have nowadays. My heart could actually burst thinking that the next time I’m at the beach, we will be probably be sitting in the sand playing together. She is not only going to make every adventure I have more fun, but she is going to make every single day an adventure in itself. That’s the mindset I want to keep. It’s hard though, because I look to my right and see a family playing together. A little girl maybe two years old, smiling up at her dad as he teaches her the proper way to build a sand castle. I’m scared my daughter will wonder why she doesn’t have that.  So I will do my best to be strong and capable and all I can be for her.  I want her to learn from me. I want to teach her that she needs to love every part herself and who she is because falling in love is never a sure thing.  Sometimes people only love a certain version of you. Sometimes people make you feel like you are worth less than you are, and sometimes people just suck.  The truth is, you can’t ask someone to care as much as you do. You can’t force someone to fight through the bullshit with you. You can’t make someone love you, and you can’t force them to stay.  If you go through life believing everyone is good and kind, that everyone will do what’s best, and that everyone else puts others first you will feel a lot of hurt. This is nothing new to me.
One day, I won’t have to feel this way. Even though nothing makes sense to me right now, it will all make perfect sense in time. I won’t always look at other pregnant women and feel jealous of the support they get.  I won’t always be pregnant. I won’t always be hurt. One day, I want to believe that I’ll come home to my tiny best friend and maybe a couple more. I’ll also come home to a man that has no doubts about where his heart is, or who his heart belongs to. There will be no lies and no fear. This pain I feel now will be a distant memory that will make me cherish the life I have. If I have a bad day every day leading up to having this child then so be it. Bad days wont last forever, and there will be plenty of them until my time is up. The last time I felt real heartbreak it was also very sudden. Like a slap in my face, out of nowhere. I came out a stronger woman for it, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.  I can choose to let this situation make me bitter towards love, but I know that’s not who I am.  I’m choosing to just learn from it and let it go. This is only the end of what I thought I wanted.  I will meet someone one day who makes me realize why I was put on this path.  Falling in love is terrifying, but it is also a hell of a lot of fun.
Perhaps when a door closes, instead of banging on it until my hands are bloody I should just nail the damn thing shut and move on. Move on holding the tiny hand of a little girl who will be the very thing that heals me and makes me whole again.  No, I didn’t ask for this version of life, but you bet your ass I’m gonna embrace it.