and I have the coolest sister too.

  • Dashababy

    Shaun calls them African American Berries. He’s about being correct.

    If you haven’t been Blackberry picking in your lifetime, you are missing out.

    As a kid we would pick the wild ones that grew everywhere around town. They were thorny and you could cut an artery trying to reach in to get the big ones, but they were worth it.

    Yesterday we went up to a farm that has pretty much grows everything.   We were let lose with baskets to put our bounty in.  THEM SUCKERS WERE HUGE! I was picking like a kid afraid that if I didn’t pick them all they would be gone forever!

    It didn’t take long for our basket to be full of blackberries the size of my thumb.

    Tyler ate his weight in berries as he was picking.  The sign said, “Testing is alright, but please do not eat handfuls.”  His theory was, “I am eating them one at a time, not a handful.”

    We went to the store to pick up dinner and I stopped and priced the blackberries. For a tiny little container holding about 12 berries was $5.99.  That means, sitting in my kitchen right now is a $60.00 cobbler Kathy made and $140.00 with left over berries.

    If you have a farm where you live where you can hand pick your own, go do it.  Soooo worth it.

  • Dashababy,  The Fonz

    because you asked…

    On occasion I get an email saying how much people love the relationship that my mom, sister and I have.   Sometimes people say, “I wish I could hang out with you guys…I bet it would be fun.”

    I have been trying to locate CD’s that I have misplaced (kids stole) and I ran across 2  (ones I stole from my sister) the title is my mother’s handwriting that says; ‘Copy of Kathy’s funky CD’.
    If my sister made a CD it’s going to be rockin’ so I grabbed it as I headed out of the house.  The first song, “Bad Mama Jamma” (of course) and I instantly was in a good mood.  After flipping through the tracks I said to myself, “Now where is ‘the floor’? It’s gotta be on here.” and low and behold it was the next song. Insta-grin.

    The floor is OUR song.  If there is a time we are together and we are groovin’ to music, that song has to be played.  In fact, I would go as far to say that at each of our funerals that it will probably be played and the remaining two will be groovin’.

    I thought I would share it with you. Pretend you’re hanging out…but get up and dance, because you can’t just listen to it:

    Johnny Gill – The Floor

  • Anxiety,  Dashababy,  friends,  hope,  Letters,  My Brats,  Shaun,  stuff portrait friday,  The Fonz

    and then a hero comes along.

    This week Stuff Portrait Friday is Hero.  I had several days to think on it and as the hours came down to minutes, I realized that if you have been reading this blog for anytime, you know who my heroes are.

    1. My Mother: You know that saying, “you’ve come a long way,baby.”? I’m pretty sure that was made up for her. Her road isn’t a road I would wish on anyone.  I wish over and over she could see how proud of her that I am. To see her at rock bottom and not only pull herself up, but bring those around up with her is awesome.

    2. My sister: I get googled, kid you not, EVERY SINGLE DAY for this entry. I’m not sure if someone just likes reading it, or if there are people out there that are writing letters to their sisters and need a little help. I’m pretty sure they can’t say the same things about their sister as I can say about mine. She’s special. I’m her only sister and she makes sure that means something.

    3. Martin Luther King Jr.: His words. My world changed when I began reading his words. The way he looked at people and their actions made all the sense in the world to me. How could we not all live in THAT world he describes with such passion? To live your life with drive and ambition for GOOD and love.

    These are the people you know are my heroes.

    There are other people in my life that are too. My brother, Barry. (dorky one in the back) My brother, Jerry (dorky one to my right) and my dorky brother, Michael (not in picture) and the people that love them.   Today my brother Michael turns 41.  To me, he’s still 10. He’s still that mean ass brother that picked on me and also made sure that my first day of school I wasn’t crying the whole time. He would peak through the window of my class on his recess break to make sure I was okay. My husbands; Ex and Current. Shit, they put up with me. Do you know how much restraint that must take them?
    My friends; Really, come on…you think you have to hear me bitch? You get the Cambells soup version of what they have to hear.  My husband’s ex-wife; We take turns being the evil one. I think today was my day. Sorry, Tabitha.  Old friends that no matter what I did or said to them STILL love me.  You have no idea what your forgiveness means to me.

    So who’s my hero?  Me.
    It’s who all those people that I love SO much and look up to would want me to call my hero. Myself.
    It’s who I want my daughters to call their hero. Themselves.
    Noooooo, they certainly didn’t have it as bad as that group of people in the picture that share a last name. NOT EVEN CLOSE.  If not getting to go on the ‘East Coast Trip’ or getting your cell phone taken away is as bad as it gets, count yourself lucky.

    I’m a survivor. I didn’t do it alone. I’ve had hundreds of hands (my family…and YOURS) pick me up and dust me off.  At the end of the day, I have to live this life the best way I know how.  I think I might be doing okay.

    Now, I am going to force myself to go to sleep because tomorrow I am going with Dan and the kids to Redding to watch my step son in his last play of his high school career. Ryan hasn’t been my ‘official’ step son for the last 8 years, but that doesn’t change my love for him and how I will always support him in no matter what he does in life. It also means  I will need to take about 6 xanax to be able to sit with his mother who thinks I am satan in a pair of flip flops.

    So, who’s your hero?  You picked me huh? Yeah…I thought so.  DID YOU PLAY???

  • Dashababy,  kara,  The Fonz


    FINALLY! I finally got up to mom and Kath’s house to visit. It was, as Kathy calls it “WAY TOO SHORT”, and I need to go back and spend like 2 months to catch up.

    I didn’t plan on getting my hair done, but after seeing Kara’s hair when Kathy finished it…I begged her to do mine.  So, it no longer looks like it does in this picture.
    Kathy came in a few minutes after the pictures were taken and waved this magic wand over my head and magic happened and I am much less war-torn looking and more “Bow Chicka Bow Bow”.

    Kathy’s husband, Kevin was in the garage all weekend getting all the Christmas decorations out and ready for set up. Shaun and I decided that in order to get us into the Holiday Season, we would force ourselves to decorate early and see a therapist that will use hypnotism to keep us believing that, ‘we will get through this…we will get through this…”

    My favorite part the whole Christmas season is pulling out the last few decorations that only I am allowed to put up.  My tiny angel and my snow babies.  I have a few new ones that are old and belonged to Shaun’s grandma. All “my” ornaments are put away in my closet and not with the other Christmas stuff in the garage.

    God, this is a stupid post. Disregard everything I just said and go take a shot of Captain Morgan.

  • Dashababy,  Letters

    Dear Kath,

    Hey sister my sister. Remember when I started this blog and it was just so you and mom could drop in and see how I was doing because I am the lousiest caller-backer EVER?
    Tonight is a reminder of the good ol’ days. Kind of give the outside world a view in to our bizarre conversations.
    Either they will be bored to death or think I have officially lost my mind.

    My hair…I finally like the color. It took longer than I thought it was going to, but the colors now finally work together and it’s nearly time to come up and let you abuse me again. I found the hair that grows in the middle of my forehead the other day. It has been removed so that was robbed from you. *evil laughter*

    It’s 10pm. You called earlier and sounded like you were in a great mood…damn kids calling and getting me all forgetful. Sorry. I guess you’re probably in bed now. Snoring like a drunken sailor.

    It rained here today. BAD. Thunder and lightening and everything. Reminded me of when we lived in the trailer and Sissy and Sadie would hide in the bath tub.

    I’m doing okay. I was reading some posts from last year and was reminded how much my family is the medication I need. I know, I know…I don’t want to hear it. I can’t move back to Redding. I won’t move back to Redding. We will just have to find a way to make our visits last longer and more often. I want to see Barry too. I miss him…us…how we all laugh until we cry when we are together. I would suggest a family reunion, but that would just send all of us anxiety people into a spiral of Eeyoreness (yes, I am making that a word) I hate that someone has to die for all of us to get together. I know next month is one of Terry’s daughters wedding and I’ll be up there for that. Not the same though.

    I miss mom too. Even when she’s all jacked up and grumpy. I miss her. There are times when I just want to throw my hands up in the air and say, “Screw it. Someone else take care of this shit. I’m leaving for a week.” It just never seems to be able to happen. Between doctor visits, orthodontic appointments, school crap and work…I just can’t say, ‘fuck it.’

    Looking at my calendar, I’m booked EVERY DAMN WEEKEND for the next few months. This up coming weekend I have Alisyn’s baby shower, the week after that a birthday party…the week after that is a wedding…does it end?
    I’m about to pull my hair out with all the stuff. and stuff. and more stuff.

    How about you, me, a beach with a cock in our hand? Damn, do I miss having a plan for something with you. Something to look forward to. It makes me want to cry. Oh shit, I am crying.

    I have been sitting on Southwest airlines website for days on end just waiting for something. Something that says, “Hey, book me. You, your sister, your mom…GO. NOW. GO!”

    I miss you, Kath… I love you too.


  • Dashababy,  Random and Odd,  Shaun

    Conversations @ the Random and Odd House

    [Big Eyes — I’m in trouble]
    “Kristine…how many containers of product would you guess are in the shower?”
    [covering my eyes — I’m in trouble]
    “Just guess. How many bottles of WHATEVER in there; shampoo, conditioner, soaps. How many would you guess?”
    [peeking out from hands]
    “THIRTY FIVE! There are THIRTY FIVE BOTTLES OF STUFF IN THE SHOWER! That is a bottle for every year you have been alive.”
    [mumble something about him taking out the trash in there]
    “That’s it. I’m going to shower in the sink for now on.”

    My sister is a hairdresser. I can’t help it.

  • Anxiety,  Dashababy,  journey

    Not Just Better, the Best…

    It’s funny how something small can realign your life back into place. A phrase, a word, a laugh. Sometimes it takes something beautiful like the birth of a child or something horrible like the loss of life to either drag people into a hole or, in my case, OUT of a hole.

    My sister always said that everyone needs a little fire in the belly to get back to good. She’s right. She’s ALWAYS right, but Mom still loves me more.

    The fire in my belly is a combination of happy, sad, regret, realization, and validation of self.

    My mother always says, “You’re so much stronger than you know.” She’s right. She hasn’t seen that Kristine in awhile, but she will.

    I’ve decided that on Sunday I am going to discontinue my medications. I know, I know…cold turkey is not good. But, my last name has changed a few times over the years, but I’m a Seguin and with that title comes the ‘cold turkey’ gene. Of course, it took a car into a tree and his mouth being wired shut to get my father to stop drinking…but officially, it was cold turkey…and probably some morphine.
    The part that I am afraid of with the quiting of medication is the fact that I won’t have this “it’s ‘ight” attitude I have had. Being on medication for anxiety or depression (remember: I’m on it for anxiety) is that you get this, “Oh…really? That sucks.” sort of outlook to life and the things going on around you.
    That has worked for me this last year. I needed to just nod my head and say, “whatever” and let stuff just roll of my back like a water does a duck. Quack. Quack.

    Not’ney more.

    When Bob died, I realized that the emotion inside of me was so suppressed. Then something tragic happened and it came out in full force. I sobbed. It felt so good to finally let out the tears.
    When something good came from something tragic, I grasped it. I renewed a friendship with someone that I was told said something not so flattering about me 14 years ago. At the time when I heard it I thought, “He’s dead to me” and I never talked to him again. It took the death of a friend to reunite me with a friend who was there for me for a long time. We let too much come between us and our friendship. Now we are 14 years older and our lives have taken roads we would have never guessed when we were younger.
    His wife, hands down, is one of the coolest women out there. She’s a no-shit type of person. When I went up to Redding I made a special trip to visit Matthew and Leslie and seeing her fire made me miss mine.
    We talk on the phone once a week and Matt and I talk shit to each other through IM.

    My sister, she has always been my beacon in life. When I get lost she’s there to show me the way and dust me off. I do what she says and she’s always right.

    I’m taking my life back. The first part of that is being accountable for the actions in my life. The second part is holding the people in my life accountable for their actions.
    I’ve talked to my mom, she’s on board.
    I’ve talked to my husband, he’s on board.
    My sister is the definition of ‘ON BOARD’.
    My kids, they’ll learn and that is the best thing I can give them. A mother who has always been ‘real’ and someone who follows through. Now they get to learn a new trick…it’s called “taking no more shit”

    Accountable. I’m accountable for the good things that happened in my life, the bad things that happened in my life and I’m accountable for every breath I take from now on.

    Not just better…THE BEST.

  • Dashababy,  Random and Odd,  The Fonz

    Where are all the pictures, Kristine?

    I’ve gotten a half a dozen emails asking me where are the pictures from my visit in Redding.

    I’m still here.

    Plans on leaving to go home were spoiled by the fact that I can barely walk. My legs from the bikini line to my knees are radioactive. About 2 inches from the girls up to my colar bone looks like someone threw battery acid on me. I was wearing a top that went up around my neck so I have this wonderful V on my chest. My mom keeps looking at it and saying, “It looks like your chest is flashing me the peace sign.”

    At around 6pm I was nearing the point of throwing up from the pain so my sister and mom bullied me into using cold water and vinegar to take the sting out.
    I insisted that it wasn’t needed and I wasn’t feeling like smelling like a easter egg. My sister, being the boss of me, said she would rip off my pants if I didn’t do it myself.
    Earlier in the day I had pulled down my pants to go pee and took off a few layers of my skin and the scream that followed caused the pain in the bathroom to peel. I figured I might as wel do it myself or feel the wrath of a sister with a mission.

    When I was giving birth all three times, my mom and sister were there as my assistant coaches. They have seens parts of my body that I haven’t seen, but there is something about laying in recliner butt naked getting wet, vinegar soaked wash clothes being put on my burned body that made me say, “This is way more of me that I ever planned on sharing with ya’all.”

    I do feel a lot better though. I smell like a salad, but the sting isn’t so bad.

    I’m still in Redding and plan on going home tomorrow. Please pray the pain subsides long enough for the 3 hour drive home.

  • Dashababy,  friends,  The Fonz

    I’m giggling so hard, I’m about to pee myself!

    I went over to an old friend’s house tonight while up in Redding recouping from Life. I promised I would only stay a few hours and come home.
    A few turned into about 5 and I got in WAY past my curfew.
    Mom and Kathy had already gone to bed and I’m KNOWING I’m going to get my ass chewed out tomorrow for “coming up here to visit and going over to a friends house and not hanging out with them”. TO WHICH, I have a good come back. The last time I was up here and I was sposta meet a friend and didn’t HE DIED.

    Where was I? Oh yeah, my ass being in trouble.

    So I get the girls into bed (which mom or Kathy made up for them) and I come into mom’s room. When I stay with my mom and sister, I sleep with my mom. YES, I still sleep with my mommy.

    I stumble around the bedroom tripping over dogs, chairs and blankets. Mom is OUT.

    While trying to eat a cheese stick I’m STARTLED by a sound. It’s the sound of my mother, SNORING. I sat down on the chair in her room and I’m listening to my mother sleep. I swear from the bottom my heart, there is nothing more precious an a baby giggling…or my mother sleeping. She snores. LOUDLY. Like all he air in the room is being sucked into her lungs and forced back into the room with great force. She is serious about her snoring…until she hears something, then the snoring goes to this sound like she’s getting her teeth worked on. The saliva in her mouth being sucked out with a hose.
    Each time she changes her snore, it makes me giggle.

    I can sit here and log the description of her breathing for hours, it’s actually adorable.

    Like right there, it was a half snore half dentist suck.

    Ohhh, now that one was her nose being sucked into her face.

    Little cute growl snore.

    A cute sigh, stretch combo.

    And then the train snore.

    I guess the best part of it is that she’s breathing. M mom is peacefully sleeping in her bed. When I get up in the morning she’s going to smile at me and tell me I’m beautiful and she loves me.

    I really have no idea how she will have the energy to talk though, all that breathing she is doing right now…with the air and the nose…that’s got to be some hard work.