I’m a twentysomething single mom of three delicious little monsters, all aged four and under (and including a set of twins!) who keep me both greatly entertained and in a state of constant insanity (but a good kind. Sometimes.) All joking aside, my kids are my life and I am one of Those Moms who never shuts up about her perfect spawn. Ever.

I used to have dreams of conquering the literary world with my acerbic wit and perfect grammar, but then I settled down and made some babies and got married and got a Perfect Little House and a retarded dachshund and resolved myself to live out the life of a typical suburban SAHM (that’s stay at home mom, for you acronym-challenged folks.) I lived and breathed cloth diapers and homebirth and cutesy mom-type things like that for three years and change. I figured I had it made.

And then life went topsy-turvy on me and I quite unceremoniously was shoved into the land of SingleMom!, where the kids never stop fighting or smearing peanut butter on things, and there never seems to be enough diapers because the four year old thinks it’s funny to unleash the twins from their Pampers when Ma’s back is turned and the kitchen turns into a baby streaking party that inevitably ends in a puddle of pee… which I inevitably  slip in. (Holy run-on sentence, Batman, but that’s a pretty good describer of what days are like in my world. Naked screaming laughing giggling sweet warm children… and peanut butter.) We laugh a lot, at ourselves and each other and the crazy world… and really, what else matters?

At times I’m bitter about the path I’ve chosen been dragged down kicking and screaming, at times I’m relieved — either way, this is my outlet, my journey into finding myself, doing the things I love and the things I don’t love so much, and loving and nurturing (and possibly warping) these three little people Deity entrusted me with.