I’ve moved!

Hello, friends. I decided to move my site! It’s where I will do all of my posting. If you could follow me there, it’d be great! My site is:

Mixed Kids and Mixed Emotions

I hope to see you there!




The mess will be there later. Your kids won’t.

Growing up, my house was always a mess. I’m talking can’t see the kitchen counter color because of the mail, newspapers, and other random stuff cluttering it kind of messy. There were always dishes in the sink and mounds of clothes waiting to be folded in the loft. Half the time, we couldn’t find the remote to the TV because it was under something.  You had to be careful in our toy room to not step on something and hurt your foot.

You know what, though? We had parents that furnished a toy room full of toys. We had parents that bought us our favorite Disney movies on tape and watched them over and over with us. We had parents that cared enough to make sure we had clean clothes. We had parents that made us eat dinner as a family at the table instead of in front of the TV.  We had parents that would dirty the kitchen making cookies and cakes with us. We had parents that would get down on the floor and roll around with us and walk with us to get ice cream and Taco Bell (Taco Bell is still my favorite fast food, by the way. Bean and cheese, baby. Don’t hate.)

Most of all, we had parents that were always present. Our well being and happiness always took precedence over any stupid housework or other adult worries, and I’m the woman I am today because of it. We were more important than it all, and I’ll always be thankful for the rockstar parents they were and are still today.

By no means am I saying that parents with clean houses aren’t good parents, I just understand why my house was always a wreck. Now that I’m a mom, I understand it more than ever. I have two beautiful boys, and I stay home with them. Before them and when I lived on my own, my house was immaculate, and I loved the organization. I couldn’t stand if one fork lay dirty in the sink. Heck, I even color coded my clothes in my closet. Stupid, I know.

My world looks SO different post kids. It resembles the cluttered messiness of my childhood home, and I couldn’t be happier. It may drive me crazy sometimes, but I’m at peace with letting my house go. The mess will always be there to clean later. My kids won’t. They will grow, and rolling around on the floor with Mom won’t be cool anymore. The little step stool my son uses to stand by me over the stove and help me cook won’t hold his weight anymore. Animated movie watching will be a thing of the past. It makes me tear up just thinking about it.

You moms with littles, I’m not preaching at you, but just try saving the mess for later and see if it’s a positive move for you and your kids. Your real friends and family don’t care what your house looks like.  Let them come and enjoy you and your precious babies. YOU enjoy your precious babies. Pick up some extra Play Doh instead of that dust bunny in the corner. Give the hours you spend cleaning back to them. Give them those memories with you before it’s too late to make them. This messiness is just a season of life you’ll wish back one day. I promise.

If you come to my house and see all the toys all over the floor, now you know why. We play hard. Wear your steel-toed boots, though. Those legos are just dadgum colorful little bastards waiting around to wreck your life. I don’t know why I buy them.

I won’t tell you how long these towels have been sitting on my couch unfolded, and this is just one of many examples of neglected housework. I’m so proud. I’ll do it later…

Until next time, play now, clean later, and let your kids cover you in dadgum farm animal stickers. I know I am.



PS – Now that all of us kids have grown and moved away, my parent’s house is always immaculate. Until the grandkids come over… 🙂


Yup, another blog.

Writing.  It’s so therapeutic and clears the cobwebs that fog my head.  In a world full of sleepless nights, dirty diapers, crustless PBJs, boy bathrooms, and Bubble Guppies, it’s just what I need.  A little adult conversation, which is what this sort of feels like, certainly helps, too.  So, here we go – another blog about being a mom (and other stuff).  Buckle up!  It’s a bumpy ride, but it’s the BEST ride!

I keep this sign posted in my kitchen for some good vibes.

Hi, I’m Ramsi.  I’m a teacher turned stay at home mommy to two beautiful half Hispanic – half white little boys.  Thank God they didn’t get my dadgum pasty ghost-white coloring, so I love the “mix of mexy” in them.  They are my world and as much as I joke about the stresses of being a mom (well, you’ll eventually see that), I wouldn’t want my life any other way.  This crazy, exhausting, exciting, intense, unforgettable thing we call motherhood that spins us into a myriad of emotions on a daily basis is what I’d like to chat about.  I’m passionate about other things, too, like teaching (about ten years in the English, AVID, and elementary classroom), education, kindness, and my reality TV guilty pleasures like Big Brother, so there will be some random ramblings mixed in here.

Before I post my first official post while sitting on a fence post in Post, Texas, I have a few disclaimers.  Number 1 – I’m super sarcastic.  You can ask some of my prior high school students or close friends, and they’ll tell you.  It’s just the way I am, and I carry it everywhere I go.  Blogging isn’t an exception.  I love to be silly and laughing uncontrollably is one of my favorite things to do, so if my future sarcasm offends anyone, I apologize ahead of time, and I’ll allow you to stop reading my posts.  Number 2 – I use the word “dadgum” a lot.  Like, a lot.  It keeps me from saying a really naughty word (which do slip sometimes, I admit, but never in front of my kids) when I want to add emphasis or express passion about something.  Sorry if it gets annoying.  What’s annoying are the little red squigglies under the word dadgum when I type it.  Like, get over it, Spellcheck.  It’s my word.

Well, I’ll get to writing and posting a little bit later.  Stay tuned, my friends.  Or, don’t, if you don’t care about kids and moms and life and stuff. Dadgum.