Ok so here's the deal. I'm only four, obviously not old enough to get in a car and drive away forever from this madness that is my life, (but apparently old enough to know what a hangover is, side eye mom) however, I do have a few years of wisdom under my belt. I know my mom has come here a few times with her "I confess sesh" malarky, but now it's my turn. And I have a few confessions I would like to get off my back. 

Forgive me father for I have sinned*. 

I confess: I'm having major mommy issues. These days, I can't even recognize her. I go to bed with a blonde haired mommy and wake up to a black haired one. That shit is scary for a tyke my age! Bangs, no bangs, Snooki tan one day and Casper the next? Wtf mom? Can we say identity crisis? For the love...

I confess: Mommy tries to trick me into eating healthy by mixing spinach into my pusghetti. Who does she think I am anyway? I'm a little smarter then that, lady. How about I "trick" you into putting lemonade in your drink instead of vodka? See how well that works?

I confess: Listen up fellow four year olds, this one's for you: never, ever, under any circumstances, admit fault. If you have a dog? Blame the dog. A younger brother? Better yet. Even if she saw you? Blame it on the invisible friend you have been forced to create as a result of mommy's extreme insanity. Trust me, if your mommy is anything like mine? She'll give you a kiss and smile at your imaginary friend on the way out. 

I confess: Skittles are not m&m's. I repeat, skittles are not m&m's!

I confess: I'm really a bleeding heart liberal. I mean, free toys? Sign a half-pint up! But please, please don't tell my mommy. I'm scared that she will erase all my tivoed South Park episodes to make more room for Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew. You know how them republicans can be greedy selfish &#$^@%*#.

I confess: I honestly think that Dr. Phil is my real dad.

*and by sinned, I mean I ate one too many double 

stuff oreos and throwed up in my bed. Twice.

One more quick I confess: Mommy had to clean it all up. Twice! lol!

Kauai circa March of this year. See you again in three weeks baby.

If the age old question can you really have it all ever applied, I would say never more so than when it comes to marriage and babies. The inspiration behind this post comes from Jenni's blog, where she wrote about exactly this topic. And it got me thinking. Marriage and babies, babies and marriage. Yes, I have both, but the good Lord up in heaven knows I have no idea when it comes to managing both well.

So I'm not here to tell you how to "have it all." Because I fail at that every single day. I'm here to tell you my experience, my journey, and my struggles. I'm also pretty sure this post will go off on many different tangents, so stay with me if you can.

I've been married for eight point five years. I always said I would wait two years before having babies. Two years seemed perfect to me: enough time to have sexy alone time with the hubs, get to know each other more, live in newlywed bliss before adding the granted stress of tiny human beings to care for. Two years somehow turned into four years, and on March 1st, 2008 (only three hours short of being a leap year baby) Gunner James Smith came into our lives. Trust me, no matter what they say, adding a baby to the mix changes things. Drastically. 

Exactly two years and two weeks later, Colt Daniel Le Smith arrived. Two boys. Our family of four was complete. We can dance into oblivion. Unicorns! Rainbows! Except not exactly. Don't get me wrong, when it comes to my kids? I am in love. I am over the moon to be a full-time mom to them. I think it's one of the most important jobs in the world (post on this to come later this week) but when it comes to juggling a husband and kids? Successfully? I still have yet to figure that one out. 

But let me start with something I think is supremely important when it comes to this subject. And that is priority. Not only is it biblical, but every good therapist around will tell you that your spouse comes before your kids. Our counselor in particular said it was absolutely crucial for Rob and I to put each other first, and our kids second. And this? I have had a very hard time with. In my little mind, I tend to think that the kids come first, always. But with this thinking? Puts my husband on the back burner. When it was him to begin with that made our family happen. Because the truth is, by putting my husband first, I am setting an example for our kids, and showing them what a loving relationship looks like. Kids need to see their parents loving each other. Kids need to feel the security of their parents being there for them, and therefore, being a solid unit. I asked our marriage counselor one time if it damaged our children to see us fighting in front of them. Her answer surprised me, when she said "no. They need to see you guys have conflict and then see you resolve that conflict in a loving way, so they can learn how real relationships work." 

And here's this: Rob comes home from working all day and immediately turns his attention on me. He will walk in the door and walk straight past the kids, go to me and hug, kiss, touch, etc. I would (and sometimes still do) get so mad him, and be all, "really? You walk past your own kids and don't even say anything to them? Don't even acknowledge them? What is wrong with you?" when what he is doing is exactly what it takes to have a successful marriage with kids. He is putting me first. Rob has always said to me that I come first, his kids come second. And my jerk reaction is to get angry, and go right into asking him stupid idiotic questions like "if Gunner and I were both dangling over a cliff and you could only save one of us, who would it be? Huh? Huh? Would you save him or me? You better say him!" (For the record, he would save our son.)

But here's the thing. Rob may come in the house after work and bypass the kids to head straight to me, but after that? His immediate second move is to pick up his boys, hug and kiss them and tell them both how much he missed them. And then to play with them for the next few hours before bedtime. I have never, not once, witnessed a time where his kids needed and or wanted him and he wasn't there. Rob is a sucker for his boys. Rob lives and breathes for his boys. He would die in a heartbeat for his boys. 

But he would also die in a heartbeat for me. And this is where I can admit I can be a total bitch at times. With complete honesty, I can say I have neglected Rob. He puts me first yet I put the kids first. Rob constantly wants to be touching me (earmuffs mom and dad!), he constantly wants to be around me, messing with me, grabbing my butt and other parts (ahem!) and I get SO ANNOYED and tell him to just back off but gosh damn, I should be thankful that after almost eleven years and twenty pounds gained, my husband still wants me fierce! I've talked to enough people to realize that what I have in a husband is pretty rare. Because if he can love his kids half as much as he loves me? Well then. His kids are pretty damn lucky.

Don't get me wrong. My husband isn't perfect. He can piss me off with the best of them. Like when he criticizes the way I cut up onions, or when he says I'm being lazy for not getting up and working out (ok that one may be true) or when he uses my expensive hair conditioner as body soap (insert super angry face here!) but when you look at it as a whole, and consider the "war versus battle" thing, I'm pretty sure I'm coming out ahead. 

Because my husband puts me first. And in turn, my kids benefit tremendously. And it has taken me a while (and a few hundred dollars worth of counseling sessions) to figure this one out. 

Now if we want to talk about what babies do to a sex life?

That is a completely different post for another day.

It's the holidays, and everywhere I look in my personal life, I see so much love, family, support, kindness and so much good. My kids are happy and healthy and they will have a Christmas filled with all the aforementioned and presents. We didn't go all out this year, in fact we kept their gift giving pretty small, but the fact is, unlike so many other children, my kids will have something to open. So many kids will have nothing this Christmas. 

And that breaks. my. heart.

So many people won't have anyone to spend the holidays with. They will be home alone on Thanksgiving, eating solo at a diner or standing in line at a homeless shelter. We may pass these people every day and not know it. They could be the person in front of us in traffic, driving too slow, too fast, maybe taking a few extra seconds to realize the light in front of them turned green, so if we could all think about that before angrily honking our horn or driving by and shaking our finger at them. They could be the person who bumps into us in a crowded store and makes us drop all our gifts we were taking to the register. Before yelling at them to "watch where you're going," we could instead smile and say "pardon me." A little kid who is acting up at the childs play area could very well be a little kid who won't see a single present this Christmas and won't get a chance to sit on Santa's lap. We should remember that, and not be quick to judge or act in anger or frustration. 

I think this holiday season we should go even further then that. To not just stand back and stop ourselves from acting in anger, but to reach out more. Say hello and smile more to strangers we pass, offer to return someones cart in the grocery parking lot, pay for the persons order behind us at the Starbucks drive-thru, hold the door open for someone even if they are just far enough away that you could let it close behind you.

To extend grace. 

To realize that maybe, just maybe, the person who seems like they deserve it the least, need love and compassion the most. Actions are powerful, yes, but words are paramount. Watch your words. You never know what it could mean to someone. I can tell you there have been very specific times in my life, that I remember vividly like it happened yesterday, where I was completely overwhelmed, felt like I wanted to curl up in ball and cry myself into oblivion, when a complete stranger said something to me, reached out and said something. They didn't have to, but they did. It may have been simple to them, but it meant the world to me. There are people out there who feel like no one in this world cares about them, and as someone who has no idea what that feels like, I don't want to contribute to that feeling for anyone. It literally hurts my heart to think of the deep, deep pain and loneliness that others feel (except murderers and child molesters, I hope they burn in hell. Just had to throw that one out there) and I think we as human beings have a responsibility to be good people. To build others up and not tear them down. 

It's important.

Because as one very wise person once said, BE KIND. FOR EVERYONE YOU MEET IS FIGHTING A HARD BATTLE.

ps. Want to read another awesome blog post on this subject? Check it out here.

pps. I'm still getting lots of amazing comments on my "If You're Crazy And You Know It Shake Your Meds" post. If it's something you're interested in, you can read here.

Someone was feeling left out. He wanted in on his own "if you really knew me" post.

So here it is. In his own words.

If You Really Knew Me... By Gunner James Smith.

* You would know that the only reason I'm always naked is because my mom is too lazy to do the laundry.

* You would know that I'm scared of eggs, only because my mom used to throw raw eggs at my face and tell me to "catch."

* You would know that my little brother thinks I'm Superman. Which would make him right.

* You would know that I love snakes.


* You would know that I'm scared of vacuum salespersons.

* And sled dogs.

* And my mom. *side eye*

If you really knew me...

* You would know that my mom has forced me to sport this fauxhawk thingy since as far back as I can remember, which isn't that far, considering I'm only four...


...but still, I hate it.

* You would know that my mom is a hypocrite. She gets me in trouble for saying the same words that she says all. the. time. Hypomom is what she is. Call her that. She likes it.

* You would know that my mom owns, and wears, at least four different cardigans. BAM! there I said it.

* You would know that I know more about Dr. Phil than I wish to. Btw, who was that Dina Lohan chick that was on the other day? She seemed nice. And hot.

* You would know that when my mom asks me how many cookies I had, I always say "only one." Kind of like when daddy comes home from work and asks mommy how many drinks she has had. Hey, I learn from the best.

* You would know that I'm a daredevil. Fun is my middle name and badass-ery is my game.

And finally, if you really knew me, like, really really really knew me...

* You would know that I secretly plan to vote for Obama. 'Cause I want me some free candy.

A couple weeks ago, I did one of those wildy popular "if you really knew me" posts. So one night, as I was sipping on a vodka soda watching Big Brother, I thought to myself, "self, you should do one of those posts, but about Rob."

Genius, I thought to myself.

I look over at Rob, give him my best come hither eyes, and say, "hey Rob, what is something people would know if they really knew you?"

His immediate response?

"Raven, I'm not playing your stupid blogging game."

me: "it's not a stupid game. Please, just answer the question."

No.

Seriously? Why not?

No.

Fine then. If you're gonna be like that, I'll do it myself. And so I did. I sent out a mass text message to those who really know him well, i.e. my sisters, mom, and his closest nephew, asking them "what would people know if they really knew Rob?"

Below are their answers (which are pretty accurate) along with a few peppered in from yours truly. 

If you really knew my husband...

* you would know that he's a hard worker. If he lost his business today, he would be out tomorrow making money somehow. Laziness is definitely not an option for him.

* if he's your friend, he will do anything for you. Anything.

* he is a very good son-in-law. (thanks mom)

* he is passionate about his boys. 

* he likes his home to look like a model home. (thanks again mom, for bringing up a very sensitive subject between us. Talk about a bone of contention. Btw, it never looks like a model home.)

* he has a very dry sense of humor (hence why I slept with him married him)

* he drinks Coors Light and Crown Royal religiously. I have never seen him order anything else while out at a bar. Ever. 

* he draws epic pictionary drawings. And by epic, I mean one time his word to draw was "chin." And his game partner couldn't guess it. That's how "epic" his drawing was. Chin!!

* he doesn't care much for pro sports but lives and breathes for college sports. In his own words, "pro athletes are spoiled rotten babies. You guys make over 10 million a year so quit whining."

* he hates when girls wear tons of makeup. When I asked what he thought about that he said, "Raven, don't ask stupid questions when you already know the answer."

* his dream girl is (in his exact words) "any gal with a tight ass, sweet t*ts, good body and over the age of 24." I would comment on this but I don't think I need to. Side eye.

* when I asked him what he thought about my blogging, he said he "didn't like it." He said I spend too much time on the computer and that "work comes first, play comes later." When I told him that I partly think of blogging as work because I make a little bit of money, he replied "oh yay, you made enough this month that maybe we can all go out and eat at McDonalds."

* did I mention he has a very dry sense of humor?

And finally, just like last time, I turned to my sister Boobie, who knows me very well and knows my husband almost just as well. 

Sorry about the blur-out above. I am pretty much an open book here but that is definitely not something any of ya'll need, or want, to see. 

The naked coyote story deserves it's own post.

And you can read how he almost made out with my sister HERE.

If you really knew me...

you would know that my Christmas decorations are still up. Right now I am staring at Mary, Joseph and little Baby Jesus. They currently reside on top of the wine fridge...

you would know that someone eating with their mouth open is the ultimate of disgusting to me. I try really hard to be a polite person, but that? I cannot deal. I will take food away from my kids if they can't eat with their mouth closed.

you would know that I am not a hugging person. I don't like it. However, I don't slight anyone who tries to give me one. Like I said, I try to be polite.

you would know that I love parties and big crowds. 

you would know that I love to eat and drive. Seriously, if I go through a drive-thru? I tear into my food before I leave the parking lot, so I can eat it while driving before I get home. 

you would know that my husband and I do not have a perfect marriage (or anything that resembles that) but we are always trying... (oh snap, I just got serious...)

on that note, I take nudie pics for my hubs and make photo books for him. I think he keeps them in his truck. And if you really knew me, you have probably seen those pictures...

If you really knew me...

you would know that I almost always laugh in awkward situations. 

you would know that I don't cry. except during Grey's Anatomy. and sad country songs. and sometimes episodes of Dr. Phil.

you would know that my "don't give a crap" attitude is for real. I really don't.

you would also know that I take anxiety meds daily. how's that for ironic?

you would know that as much as I declare my love for Britney Spears, I think she's totally got a few screws loose and most definitely do not idolize her.

you would know that I texted my sister Boobie and asked for her help. If anyone knows me the best, it's her.

Soo...........

So after Gunner guest posted last week, and after all the positive comments he received, he has been walking around the house with his chest out and nose upturned, kinda like he owns the place. Of course, he has been incessantly bragging to his brother about how "all mommys friends like him best" and how "better" he is now that he has a book deal in the works.

So Colt came to me and demanded to write a guest post of his own.

Apparently, second children have something to say also...

******************************************************

Hi. My name is Colt.


As you can see, I have no pants on, and I'm soooooo cold right now. Someone call CPS!

You may recognize my little legs in the above picture, seeing as how mommy tweets and instagrams a billion pictures of me without clothes on. She says I like being naked. Let me ask: do you like being naked? Outside? In the cold? It's not the best feeling in the world. I can't talk much yet, but if I could, I would say "the hell, woman? Put some damn pants on me!"

I mean, really. Too much to ask?

It probably is. Considering the social status I currently hold in the house. Talk about being second rate. It's always "Gunner this" and Gunner that," and then when or if she does remember that she birthed a second child, I might get a few leftover scraps of macaroni and cheese.

I loooooooooooove macaroni and cheese.

Back to my brother.

Why does the oldest have to act like that? Like he's all high and mighty, and that his shit don't stink. I've smelt it, and trust me, it stanks. It doesn't matter what toy I had first, if he wants it, he's gonna get it. It has to be alllllllll about him or he will make my life hell. His way or the highway. Selfish, that's what firstborns are.

I think that mommy is a firstborn.

Explains a lot.

Oh, and by the way mom? I hated my long curls. I'm glad granny cut it off when you and daddy went on vacation. I know you have plans to grow it long again, but make no mistake...as soon as I learn how to use the scissors? Your precious curls are going down.

Boo-yah.

Oh, and one more thing? When you hear me in the monitor at 6 am? I'm ready to get up. I know you like to brag to all your girlfriends how "both your kids like to sleep 'til 9," but I only sleep 'til 9 because I get bored after 2 hours of doing nothing in my crib, so I drift back to sleep.

You just wait 'til I can crawl out of my crib.

I'll wake you up by smacking you with the pancake paddle.

Get up sugart*ts and make me some breakfast!

Like daddy says...maybe instead of drinking half a fifth and staying up late watching "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant," you could get up with my early cries and sweat it out on that dust machine aka the Treadmill.

That ass ain't gonna work itself out...

................................

It's late.

I gots to go to bed.

My mom is MIA so can one of you sweet sugar britches adopt me?

Please?

I'll reward you with long walks in the park and a few sips of my juice box.

Not to be mistaken with my macaroni and cheese.

Don't touch that.

Or I'll go all firstborn on your ass.

"I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me...but I can't help it that I'm so popular."

A definition of "snob" I found recently was this:

a person who believes himself or herself an expert or connoisseur in a given field and is condescending toward or disdainful of those who hold other opinions or have different tastes regarding this field.

The "field" we are talking about today is that of blogging. As I'm sure many of you know, blogging can be a wonderful thing. You can find other bloggers with similar interests as your own, you can get feedback, you can laugh, connect, be entertained, and if you're an emotional type of person, you may actually find yourself crying over at someones neck of the virtual woods. You can see a blog friend turn into a real life friend (ahem) and you can feel like you are a "part" of something. It's true when they say that blogging is a community, a comradeship, a stomping ground for us all who have something to say.

But just like every other group of girls that get together, there are bound to be cliques, the cool crowd, the mean girls...

or in this arena

The Blog Snobs.

dun dun dun

In my never to be humble opinion, there are a few things that qualify someone as a blog snob. In no particular order...

Hey bishes! I'm here today guest posting because let's face it, this blog could use a little spicing up. While my mom is still crying into her wine glass over my little brothers haircut (it was months ago! get a life!) I'm gonna share with you a few nuggets of four year old wisdom. 

yeah, I have pink toes. Gotta problem with it?

But first, let me introduce myself. My name is Gunner James Smith, but you can just call me The Big Gunz. My favorite food is chocolate pudding and if you try to get your hands in my snack pack, well, let's just say it didn't work out well for the last guy who tried.

That last guy being my brother.

He's now missing a finger, but shhhh....don't tell my mom.

Not like she would notice anyway. She's too busy "working" aka blogging and photoshopping herself so you all think she's some hot stuff or something.

Trust me sweeties, she does not look like that.

Talk about an optical illusion.

And she teaches me not to lie. Hypocrite.

You know how my mom always says we love to be naked? Well, that's true. But do I need her splashing those pictures all over the interwebs for all to see? No, no I do not. I'm eventually going to get a serious girlfriend (like in a year or two) and I don't need her googling me and seeing photo after photo of my nekked booty. So inappropriate, mom.

You know what else is inappropriate? My mom's bizarre obsession with Britney Spears. Really? How old are we again? Isn't she a little...immature for a grown woman with two kids to idolize? Grow up mom. You should listen to someone more age appropriate... like Barbara Streisand or Bette Midler.

I really wish I could watch Spongebob Squarepants, but my mom says it's the work of the devil. Oh yeah? I think you trying to shove that j.lo of yours into jeans two sizes too small is the work of the devil. I may be young, but I know what "muffin top" is and it ain't cute.

Speaking of muffins, did I mention that chocolate is my favorite food? My mom always tells me that "it's unhealthy to eat chocolate all day long" and that I can only have it "in moderation." So that's how it is? You really wanna go there? Because I also believe that drinking vodka "all day long" is unhealthy. BAM!

I think I'm gonna grow up and marry a liberal just to piss her off. 

Peace out sugartits