I don’t want to write this.

I don’t want a lot of things but I especially don’t want to write this. I suppose when you need the right words, you turn to a writer.

That’s me. A writer.

My name is Julie. My parents are Tom and Abbie. I have three younger siblings – Jessica, Jon, and Jenna.


I met Jenna when I was in Kindergarten. I remember the day she was born. I remember waiting in the waiting room with my two siblings and my aunt Mary. A male nurse ran in to tell us my mom had her baby. I asked if I had a brother or a sister and he said he didn’t remember. A few hours later, my dad handed me my baby sister. I still wonder how a nurse forgets such a thing.

Jenna and I are six years apart. That’s a huge gap when you’re growing up together. Jenna started Kindergarten when I headed to middle school. Jenna was in middle school when I left the house for college. Jenna became a first time aunt to my daughter, Emma, when she was still in high school.

But then Jenna married Steven. Jenna gave birth to Evelyn four years ago. And then she gave birth to June two years ago. I was in the room during June’s birth. Jenna looked up at me with the baby crying on her chest and whispered, “Her name is June Elaine. June Bug. She’s a bug too.” Jenna and Steven named June after my nickname “bug” and Jessica’s middle name, Elaine.

The six-year gap between Jenna and me doesn’t exist anymore. Jenna, Jessica, and I became the same age when we became mothers. Aunthood and motherhood – it’s the same with my sisters and me. All three of us gave birth to Emma, Kate, Gabby, Evelyn, Savannah, June, William, and Jenna’s little boy – due in June 2017.

We never knew the name of the little boy Jenna carried.

On May 13th, 2017, a nurse knocked on the waiting room door. Our heads shot up. Our swollen, blood-shot eyes stared. The nurse seemed flustered.

“Jenna is still in the operating room. We’re doing everything we can. Steven and Henry are on the 2nd level. I will escort you to down there. We offer our deepest condolences.”


His name was Henry. Henry Steven Flanery.

They say babies can hear outside of the womb. Henry Steven Flanery must have known us all. He knew his sister, Evelyn, and her voice of song. He knew his other sister, June, and her screams of laughter. He heard his dad, Steven, take aim and fire at a box that exploded blue powder, announcing his gender to the world of Facebook. He heard our families cheers of joy. Henry knew us and he knew our love for him. Above all, he knew his mother, Jenna, the most.

I held Henry. He was beautiful inside his mom’s womb. The ears he heard us with were his mom’s ears. I held the same ears 29 years ago, only they were my baby sister’s ears. Henry weighed 5 pounds, 1 ounce. He was 18 inches long. He looked like a sleeping newborn. I stroked his face and touched his light brown hair. He had a small dimple on his chin. I held Henry but I never met him.

Henry wasn’t in my arms. He was two flights up in the hospital with his mom. I met an angel on May 13, 2017.

After five hours of waiting, one of Jenna’s five surgeons knocked on the waiting room door. Jenna was stable but in critical condition.

During the early hours of May 13th, Jenna started to throw up. She started a giant contraction that wouldn’t let go. A doctor would know this means the placenta tore away. Usually there is bleeding with this but Jenna didn’t bleed. Her pain and condition worsened and she went to the hospital around 6 a.m. By the time Jenna was at the hospital, the doctors couldn’t find a heartbeat. Henry passed away due to placental abruption and lack of oxygen.

There are three risk factors women generally have when the placenta tears away from the uterus – the woman is on drugs, the woman has high blood pressure, or the woman suffered trauma. Jenna did not have any of these. The five surgeons could not tell us why her placenta tore away at 8 months. We will never know why.

Jenna delivered Henry with ease. She was able to hold Henry and see his face. Then she started to bleed. The blood wouldn’t stop. Doctors had to put Jenna under while they worked to save her life. The surgeon tried every trick she knew to stop the bleeding. Jenna wouldn’t stop. It was like water flowing out of a sink. Jenna lost 8 liters of blood. She lost as much blood in a non-pregnant body. Not only was Jenna losing blood from her uterus, she was also filling up with blood in her body cavity. In order to save Jenna’s life, surgeons removed her uterus. The surgeon took her uterus to a table and searched everywhere for a hole. Jenna had to have been leaking; the surgeon was determined to know where. The surgeon couldn’t find the hole. This is another answer the doctors could not give us. We don’t know why Jenna bled outside of the uterus. We will never know why.

The five surgeons told us they have never seen a hemorrhage this catastrophic in 25 years of practice.

Jenna lived.

Henry never cried that day. He wasn’t in my arms. He was saving his mom.

There’s nothing I can do for Jenna but be her sister and I will write this story for her even though I don’t want to write this.



Many people have asked what they can do to help. We set up a GoFundMe page for Jenna and Steven. If anything, we can relieve the financial stress with medical bills and funeral costs. If you would like to help my sister, please consider donating. 

The Flanery Family Go Fund Me

Thank you for your prayers and love as we mourn the loss of Henry and continue to support Jenna’s healing.



Ticks and Johnny Boy.

Scott: What are you doing?

Me: Taking a selfie with a lady bug.

Scott: Why?

Me: I don’t know.


I was trying to take my mind off the blood-sucking ticks crawling up my back. I was also trying to take my mind off the boob sweat running down my shirt.

Or maybe it was a line of marching ticks.

As Scott’s wife, being an outdoorswoman is a requirement. Even if I didn’t tag along on Scott’s Polaris Ranger adventures through the woods, I would still wake up in bed with a tick stuck on me because Scott brings the outdoors home in his beard.

And I don’t mean he brings home roses.

Well, maybe rose thorns poking my ass.



Scott: WHAT!



I’m not a hateful person. I don’t hate the outdoors. But I do hate ticks. Those little blood-sucking mother fuc –

Scott: What are you doing?

Me: Take a picture of me.

Scott: Put your feet down. No one drives like that.

Me: But this is how I drive ole’ Johnny Boy.


What am I really doing? I’m escaping the news. I’m spending time with my husband in the great outdoors while I play host to the bugs of summer. 

There is no such thing as driving ‘ole Johnny Boy in the middle of nowhere. Our communication with the world is too good. It’s a blessing but also a curse.

Within minutes, thousands – maybe even millions – know the moment tragedy strikes. And at that moment, it’s always too late. Siblings are ripped apart. Friends are never seen again. Parents bury their children. Only a memory remains when it’s too late. All we can offer is a prayer, a wish, or maybe a glance up at the stars for peace.

Who’s to blame for tragedy? I don’t know. I’m not here to argue. I don’t have time to argue. My world is much too small for that.

Enjoy your life with your loved ones.

Even if you’re crawling with ticks.


Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram


I wanted to hear what my family was thankful for before Thanksgiving.

By the time Thanksgiving dinner is served later today, I probably won’t hear their answers. Kate doesn’t like attention on her during family gatherings so she won’t talk. Scott is well on his way to being a six pack deep with his brother and cousins. And Emma will run off with her cousins after one bite.

Here is, word-for-word, our conversation as I sat in bed with my laptop:

Scott, what are you thankful for?

Two awesome girls.


And my loving wife.

That’s corny.

I have a good job.

Can you be funnier?

You just want me to praise you.

No, no. Not true. I just said that was corny. This is not Facebook. Be real. I’m really just waiting for you to say it.


You’re thankful for your resources to allow you to hunt. You’re like an Indian.


I don’t know. I just got a visual of you killing a buffalo or something. Hm, I guess our family would never stave if we lived in the 1600s.

You see? You get annoyed with hunting but I can provide for the family.

Nope. I am the one that grocery shops. We’re back in 2013 now.

Emma! Come here!

Yeah, mom?

What are you thankful for this year?

What do you want me to say?

Whatever you want. If your teacher asks what you’re thankful for before you leave for Thanksgiving break, what will you tell her?

Uh, tell me.

No! Emma! Everyone has their own list. What makes you happy in your life?

Hm. I would say the planet earth.

The planet earth. Scott, she just said the planet earth. She covered her bases. Ok, thanks Emma. You can go back to play now.



What are you thankful for?

I don’t know.

I know your teacher asked you this. What did you say?

The whole world.

You told the teacher the whole world? Did Emma tell you to say that?

Mom, just go back to work on your computer.

But no one asked me – what I am I thankful for? A loving husband and two funny daughters who are thankful for the world.

I realize I just went all Facebook on you. It happens.

Our family wishes your family a Happy Thanksgiving! Cheers!

KSU’s defense gave me cankles.

I don’t want to mention the unmentionable that happened on Friday night at Bill Snyder Family Stadium.

But I will write through this because writing helps my depression. Unfortunately, writing will not help my cankles.

I was raised a die-hard football fan. I attended my first football game at Arrowhead Stadium with my dad when I was 8 years old. I couldn’t tell you who the Kansas City Chiefs played, what the weather was like or even if it was a night or day game. Childhood memories are sketchy like that.

You don’t need to understand the game to feel the emotions of football. Arrowhead was a beast. The sea of red chants echoed in unison. Arrowhead would get so loud, I couldn’t even hear my dad yelling at me as he lifted me up over his shoulders. All I could see from 6 feet up in the air was Arrowhead being electrocuted. The whole stadium was shaking, lights flickered, red and gold sparks flew. Goosebumps ran through my body and I had no idea why.

I was hooked.

Die-hards fans – they do not waiver. They do not jump on bandwagons. The die-hard will experience glory days. They will also experience days of gut-wrenching heartache.

Sometimes the gut-wreching heartache shocks the body on a physical level.

My body turned against me.
I don’t know what happened.

Look at her elephant feet! Cankles! Are you sure you’re not pregnant? I’m scared Julie’s club feet are going to stomp on me! Boom Ba Ba Boom! Oh, did you hear that? Julie left the bar! If someone were to tell me these are your feet, I would never believe them in a million years. You’re kinda like that girl on Willy Wonka, will you explode purple?

I heard it all. Thanks, friends.

Sure, my swelling could have been from tailgating in a heat index of 110 degrees. It could have been from the beer flowing down my throat like water. It could have been from standing on my feet for the entire game screaming at the defense every time North Dakota State had the ball. Oh gawddd – North Dakota State.

No. I know exactly why my feet swelled. K-State’s defense made my body physically shut down. I can’t handle a home opener L-word.

I threw my game ticket in this guy’s face while at Pita Pit.

I hope you like this souvenir, doncha know.

He's laughing at my cankle feet and the W.
He’s laughing at my cankles and his W. This picture is used without permission because I don’t know who this is.

For all the heartache, I believe I handled myself well.

Oh wait, let me adjust my ice pack. 

I have become numb to the pain of the Chiefs but I still cheer them on. I’m not ready to become numb to the Wildcats.

The cankles will be worth it when K-State wins a football National Championship. Probably next year.

Win or L-word, we still look cute in purple!
Win or L-word, my niece and I still look cute in purple! Elephant feet cropped.

Dear Donor Family.

Dear Donor Family:

Scott! How do I write this? What should we say?

I don’t know, thanks for donating? You’re better at writing than I am.

But you’re the recipient. I’ll look at the donor organization website for ideas. It says here that the majority of ligament and tissue donors are otherwise healthy and relatively young who died in accidents. Since the tissue and ligaments can be taken off a body up to 24 hours after the heart stops, there are many more of these type of donors. In comparison, organ donors need to be “alive” but brain dead. So I am assuming your donor was young and died suddenly so the family donated what they could.

That’s really sad. Why are you telling me this?

The family needs peace, Scott. I just want them to get a little bit of happiness knowing their loved one is back at it.

Dear Donor Family:

We wanted to express our sympathy for the death of your family member. We also wanted to thank you for your family member’s Anterior Tibialis Tendon. This tendon came from the front part of your family’s member leg. It was used to repair my husband’s ACL.

Stop. Don’t say that. That sounds so mechanical. The front of your family member’s leg?

Can you tell I googled Anterior Tibilais Tendon? Dude. You didn’t even get a real ACL. It’s a tendon that is connected to the same bone Kate broke when she was 1. Remember? She broke her tibia bone. This is all connected and it’s blowing my mind.

Ooooooo….(rolls his eyes)

Ok. Read this.

Dear Donor Family:

We wanted to express our sympathy for the death of your family member. We also wanted to thank you for your family member’s donated tendon.

My husband, Scott, blew out his knee playing basketball. He was scheduled for surgery to carve out the meniscus in his knee on July 12. When the surgeon got inside his knee, he discovered he busted his ACL. This is Scott’s 2nd ACL injury – the first was playing baseball. Since Scott’s patella tendon was used in the first surgery, the surgeon chose to use a donated tendon as the new ACL. Your loved one was the chosen one.

Without this donated ACL, my husband would not be able to walk. He has done well in physical therapy and should be able to walk on his own in about 6 weeks.

Scott is a natural athlete and outdoorsman. On any given weekend, Scott can be found hunting, fishing, or lifting weights.

If Scott were not able to walk, I have no doubt he would still find a way to do his hobbies from a wheelchair or limping on his bad knee.

The one thing Scott would have trouble doing is being the dad he wants to be. We have two daughters, ages 7 and 4. If Scott were not able to walk, he would not be able to chase our girls around the house. He wouldn’t be able to make the girls a giant snowman in the winter. He would not be able to chase and catch lightening bugs for the girls in the summer. He would not be able to walk them to school in the mornings. He wouldn’t be able to show the girls how well he can ice skate after years of playing hockey.

I’m sure one day, he will want to stand at our front porch and stare down our daughters’ boyfriends. He will stand tall with pride and clap for our daughters’ on their graduation day. And he will cry on the day he walks each one down the aisle.

With your loved one’s donation, Scott can teach our daughters so much more. We have told our daughters that a very special person helped daddy’s knee work again.

I promise he will stay away from baseball fields and basketball courts. He will take good care of this knee for the rest of his life. He knows he has a piece of someone always with him, helping him be a dad. We thank you and your loved one.

— Julie, Scott, Emma and Kate

This makes me cry. You’re going to make them cry. 

But this person helped you. Can you imagine your life without a working knee?

Ok, send it.

To The Great Bambino.

To my unborn niece – The Great Bambino.

Baby girl. I have called you the Great Bambino since the day I found out about your existence. You must be wondering, “but why does Aunt Jules call me Bambino?” I’ll tell you why, little one. I mean, I have nothing else to do. I’m just killin’ time before you are placed in my arms.

There was a baseball player named George Herman Ruth, Jr.. He played baseball a long, long time ago. George was born 118 years ago – whoa! But George is not known as what his mommy and daddy named him. He was given a lot of nicknames: Sultan of Swat, The Great Bambino and most famously, Babe Ruth.

Babe Ruth is considered to be one of the greatest baseball players of all time. If there is one thing he was good at, it was hitting a baseball out of the park. That is not an easy thing to do. Aunt Jules can barely hit the ball two freakin’ feet in front of her. He helped the New York Yankees win the World Series 4 times. It took years and years for anyone to break his records. Babe Ruth was one of the first in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. That’s big time. You can impress your boyfriends with all of this information Aunt Jules just googled.

Ah, Babe Ruth. Did you know your mom’s middle name is Ruth? She is named after your great-grandma. Your Aunt Jules, the oldest, will always see your mom as the baby of the family. Your mom got all of Aunt Jules’ and Aunt JJ’s hand-me-down clothes. She had to share a room with Aunt JJ. She had to play with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with Uncle Jon. Now, don’t be feelin’ too bad for your mom – she doesn’t know what a curfew is either. This actually may work out in your favor 16 years from now, Bambino.

So when your mom and dad told Aunt Jules that you were on your way into her arms, Aunt Jules could only think one thing: Baby Ruth. Babe Ruth. The Great Bambino. Surely, it’s a boy.

No. Babe Ruth is a girl. She’s the Great Bambino.

Now tell me! Give me a hint in my dreams or something – when will you be here?! What is your real name? Are you bald? Will you be a lefty, like Babe Ruth? Without a doubt, you are very pretty. Aunt Jules is getting impatient. We’re past the 7th inning stretch, here. Aunt Jules needs to hold you, pretty little Bambino. Wrap you up like a ballpark hot dog, maybe in this new blanket Aunt Jules ordered:

Aunt Jules thinks of the best ideas in the shower.
Aunt Jules thinks of the best ideas in the shower.

South Florida.

My personal email is one of the most interesting places I can write.

My father-in-law sent out an email to the family asking for some work help. We went from shooting ideas for his company newsletter (which will probably be another blog post in itself) to my feelings on moving to South Florida. Scott’s family used to live in South Florida for the greater chunk of his life. This is cool when it comes to vacationing – South Florida/Keys is one of my most traveled places since I’ve been married to Scott. It’s not so cool because they know what it’s like to actually live there. My midwest mind tried to convince them otherwise. I mean, it is January right now. I’m sitting here on my laptop, cold and wrapped in a blanket. I got a little excited thinking of moving the family to South Florida:

To: <Family>

From: Kathy (mother-in-law)

Subject: Family Survey

Who needs a marketing department when we have all of you! Such good ideas! Can you all move to Wichita?


To: <Family>

From: Julie

Ha! No. Let’s all move to Florida!


To: <Family>

From: Ashley (sister-in-law)

No. We already talked about this. We’re moving to Colorado.


To: <Family>

From: Julie

Apparently, Scott thinks South Florida is the world’s worst place. Lately, I’ve tried to get Scott to consider it. It’s not “nice” according to his high standards of living.



To: <Family>

From: Mark (brother-in-law)

I actually wouldn’t want to move back to Florida either. I wouldn’t fight it if I had to for work, but it wouldn’t be my first choice.


To: <Family>

From: Julie

You guys are all lame. Adult Mark and Scott would have more fun than high school Mark and Scott!
Can you imagine the possibilities?!
  • I could wear white baggy linen pants and a bikini top every day.
  • My kids could show their quarter Mex sun-kissed skin all year. No one would believe that white-eyebrow’ed man is their dad.
  • What am I talking about, my quarter Mex kids? I’m half! I love me some high SPF but Pook, you know I can hold my bikini tan line through all of the harsh Kansas winter. Winter doesn’t exist in south Florida.
  • My sibs/family would be signing up to visit whenever possible. Hell, all of our Kansas-friends-in-low-places would be signing up too.
  • Random Keys weekend trip? Holla.
  • Midwest fat eating would never exist. A light Mahi-Mahi drizzled with olive oil and a side of mango salsa for lunch? DONE.
  • Kate’s allergy to pool chemicals would forever be gone. Do it for the safety of Kate’s skin!
  • We can easily visit Mickey and Minnie. They would be our BFFs. Bonus! Local Floridians get a discount.
  • We can tweet pictures of us in tank tops/shorts decorating the Xmas tree! #bejealous
  • Possible scenario while out to lunch:

Me: (whispering) Hey Scott. Is that Emilio Estevez and Gloria Estafan sitting behind me, to my left? Don’t stare. It is? We shouldn’t bother them. But let’s do the conga on the way out.

  • Exchange hunting hobbies for fishing. I can hang out on a boat all day. I was probably conceived on one anyway. I would gladly cheer you guys on the shore of a fishing tournament in the Keys. I would NOT cheer you on in a tree stand in November in the freezing cold.
  • Having a bad day? Just let it all out. Go ahead and flip everyone off while driving in your car. Don’t hold doors open for people. You will fit in with the New Yorkers running around.
  • Mark – SALT WATER FISH EVERYWHERE! Find the real Nemo!!
  • You guys all have built-in friends there. You won’t be a fish out of water.
  • Laying under an effin’ palm tree after a dip in the soothing salt water ocean is more relaxing than any spa in Kansas. Or Texas.
  • My Top Gun loving family – two words: SAND VOLLEYBALL
  • Oh what fun it will be to listen to teenage Emma and teenage Kate scream and cuss at us in Spanish.

What did she say, Pook?

  • Oh you need your boat fixed? Let me make a phone call to my dad.

DAD! Can you fly down here and help us?

Sure honey, anything for you. Do you want me to stay a week, just to be sure everything is running ok?

  • I’m sure the sunrises in South Florida are amazing. Too bad I still won’t wake up to see. I would, however, drive the family down to Key West to watch the sunset.
  • Knock-off designer bags, purses, sunglasses. NO ONE WOULD EVER KNOW.
  • I would probably have to change my favorite cocktail choice from whiskey to rum. You know, to fit in. Oh, wait. Hemingway drank whiskey. I’ll be good.
  • Natural Disasters: We can go from no-warning tornado alley to you-have-all-week to prepare for hurricane. The better of two evils is the preparation one.
  • Hey wait, is that Kenny Chesney filming another video? Let’s go ask if we can be extras!
  • Cruise to San Maarten, anyone? DONE.


To: <Family>

From: Mark

Hahahaha…Gold, Jerry! Gold!


To: <Family>

From: Kathy

All I have to say is….WHAT SHE SAID.


To: <Family>

From: Julie

Hold on, I can still think of more convincing points. I feel I don’t have all of you on board, here. The mass murder state of Colorado is just a plane ride away. Let me think for a minute. I’m on the toilet. I get my best thinking done here.


To: <Family>

From: Julie


  • Vacationing in a snowy place, like visiting Kansas or Colorado, when you are coming from Florida is much better than what we have now – always coming home from a warm winter vacation to hell frozen over.
  • Let’s all move in same neighborhood!

Oh, what? Who teepee’d the crap out of your flat Floridian style roof? It wasn’t me! Damn, neighborhood kids!

  • Ashley – want bright lime green on your walls? It’s all good. It looks a little crazy in the midwest. It looks like home in Florida.
  • I have convinced myself if we all hang around Brett long enough, we can all achieve his abs.
  • Mark and Ashley – you would be surrounded by your precious FSU apparel. I would accept the challenge of turning Florida KSU purple. Damn you for leaving KSU, Frank Martin.
  • We can be expert Cuban cigar aficionados. We could write guest pieces in the magazine.
  • Oddly, South Florida has a NHL team. Kansas does not. We can still get use out of our mittens and long-sleeves and GOALLLLLLLL!!!!!


To: <Family>

From: Jeff (father-in-law)

I’m packing my bags during lunch break. I’m convinced this is the right thing to do.

A Twitter Christmas.

I’m back! Did you miss me? Much to the knowledge of all my Twitter followers, we went to my in-laws over Christmas.

I was going crazy. Crazy because I couldn’t shake the feeling I was always hungry around my mother-in-law’s cooking. Crazy because I was bored in a town I don’t know very well. Crazy that an unlimited amount of whiskey was provided at all hours of the day by my father-in-law. And I love whiskey. I was mostly going crazy because I couldn’t sit down and write at my computer. Writing clears my head. I need to write. So I did what comes naturally to my trigger-happy thumbs – I tweeted. Que the eye-rolling of my husband.

For those that don’t follow me, a recap:

Scott’s grandma just said my hat looks like a helmet. #inlawxmas

I have been reunited with my UT grad bro-in-law. This seems about right. #inlawxmas 


Me: Hey you got any beer? Mom-in-law: No, just liquor. #ohdear #inlawxmas

Seriously, in-laws? It’s like they don’t even know me. #mexican #extramild? #wtf #inlawxmas


Husband, watching a fishing show: I wish I was a dolphin. #inlawxmas

Me: I forgot underwear. Mom-in-law: I knew I should have called to remind you! #inlawxmas They know me too well.

At liquor store. Husband grabs a basket. Bro-in-law grabs a cart. Little bro knows best. #inlawxmas

Whiskey and #Kstate bball make me happy. #inlawxmas just got better.

Scott’s cousin: I’m sorry there was no whiskey in my arms length for me to make you a drink. #wtf #rum? #inlawxmas

Excedrin Migrane should just call it as it is: Excedrin Hangover #inlawxmas

It’s Mexican food/margarita night with in-laws in honor of me bc I’m Mexican. Good thing I brought my red lipstick. #inlawxmas

Husband: the movie wasn’t bad. I was just expecting Lincoln to be Top Gun quality. #inlawxmas

Shout out to dogs for taking care of Santa’s cookies for me. They like me to stay fit. Take away the wine, you go outside. #inlawxmas

Fav gifts so far. Shout out to Bill Snyder. #kstate #thankful #inlawxmas


Her dad didn’t shoot Rudolph but Santa made sure Emma could. 😦 #inlawxmas


UT grad bro-in-law and me. Really pumped I can wear this shirt in his presence. I love #inlawxmas. I love #Kstate. 


“Little do you know I have no pants on.” Overheard at poker. #inlawxmas

“I have two queens here scissoring.” Overheard at poker. #inlawxmas

“Wait how do you spell scissoring? — A-W-E-S-O-M-E. Overheard at poker. #inlawxmas

My initials are LSD. Welcome to my world. Overhead at poker. #inlawxmas

“Without having more information, I’m a bigger fan of a twat than a tweet.” Overheard at poker. #inlawxmas

Homeward bound. It’s been real hash tag #inlawxmas

Scott’s family isn’t the only side that provides Christmas entertainment. We celebrated my family’s “Christmas day” this week. You can guarantee I sat in a corner tweeting what I overheard. I mean, really, I’m just documenting the memories:

Dad: I’m just gunna keep farting so I get the couch to myself. #myfamilyxmas

Husband: That looks like a Mexican outfit. Anything that is a lime color. #myfamilyxmas

Overheard at #myfamilyxmas: Papa likes skirts too.

Emma: YES! Art supplies! Dad: Yeah! Keep that cellophane wrapped around it until you get home! #myfamilyxmas

Overheard at #myfamilyxmas: You bastard! You snuck in bourbon! — It’s about to get real, Twitter. #myfamilyxmas

Husband: so does Mexican hot chocolate mean there’s tequila in it? #no #myfamilyxmas

Bro-in-law to bro-in-law convo: Will you lather my beard? – No but I will lather your ass. #myfamilyxmas

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! We are very blessed to be able to spend the holidays with our crazy families.

I will write next year! Sorry, lame joke. I’ll work on it.

Another Christmas with the family.

We celebrated Christmas this weekend with my mom and dad’s side of the family. You know, where all the aunts, uncles and cousins are in one big room. Kids are running around. White elephants are being stolen. Everyone is eating way too much food.

My mom’s side was on Saturday. That was a normal get-together.

Then we get to my dad’s side on Sunday – Sunday Funday.

One of my cousins, Bob, plops down next to me as the gifts were being handed out.

Bob: Hey, write about the family on your blog. We’re funny.

Me: I kinda already did. I wrote about Jennifer and Grandma over the summer.

Bob: Oh yeah, Grandma and her Kleenex after sex.

Me: Gross.

Bob: No, you need to write about all of us.

Me: I don’t know what to write about other than you guys are crazy.

Bob: Just write down quotes you hear. This will be good.

Dad: Yeah, write what we say down!

Me: Ugh! Fine.


I apologize in advance for the raunchy language. Everyone has a “crazy aunt” they have to put up with on Christmas. I have a whole “crazy family”. This is how they act all the time with or without alcohol. These are direct quotes I wrote in my phone as they were said. As always, who said what will be anonymous:


  • Hey watch out! She’ll rub her cooch on you.
  • Has Pookie slipped Grandma the tongue yet? I think I missed it.
  • You were a little dickhead when you were little.
  • Ew, I think he’s blowing in my daughter’s ear.
  • Here, I’ll put a bag over it. — That’s what you do when you don’t want to get pregnant.
  • Julie, stop writing what he says. He’s not funny. You know what school he went to, right? KU.
  • I’m going to moon you. — I’m not turning around. I’m going to watch. Go.
  • Does she have a nickname? — Just Gabby. — Well, your nickname is jackass.
  • Look at him, he’s falling asleep. HEY! Don’t fall asleep! Let’s have a threesome down the pool slide! Weeeeeee!!
  • I don’t feel good. I need some penis-cillin.
  • There’s enough pregnant women here to drive. I can keep on drinking.
  • Hey don’t get too drunk or you won’t be able to use your dildo at home. — She’ll have to use it! Look who she’s married to!
  • Stop farting. — I can’t help it. — Well then stop eating eggs, dumbass.
  • Go thank her and give her a kiss on the lips. — Ew, no! — Stop! They’re cousins!
  • Go suck ass to Grandma, you little Jayhawker.
  • You are a sarcastic little shithead, aren’t you? — No, he’s actually being genuine.
  • Look at the back of his bald head. His skull is like messed up.
  • Get that KU blanket away from us! Get it away! Hey, KU really has a hell of a football team, don’t they? One hell of coach too.
  • I’ll give you $20 to moon Grandma. Drop your pants.
  • Don’t give my mom any more to drink. She’s at the point where she will pee her pants.
  • God damn! Look at that ass!
  • My vibrator has all speeds. — That is not funny. No one is laughing.
  • For once, I’m actually being good at this function.
  • You are kinda gross to be rubbing your dad’s neck like that. I don’t like this father/daughter action.
  • We have to go. — Wait to say goodbye to Grandma. She’s in the bathroom. — Tell Grandma to pinch it off and let’s go.
  • You will be my only son-in-law and you are so effing sweet.
  • Hey, you think Grandma wiped? What about washed her hands? — Oh shit, she just did the sniff test.
  • You have good wrist action there.
  • Do you have a dildo up your ass? — No, but one time I did that and it made me breathe too hard.
  • If that was my mom, I would just go into hiding.
  • You’re being induced on Wednesday? I didn’t even know you were that pregnant.
  • Did Pookie give Grandma a lap dance yet?
  • Look at that whole side of the room with their shirts over their noses.



A day on the computer.

Well, I hope everyone reading my blog for the first time doesn’t think I’m a complete KSU psycho. I swear we, as a family, are normal K-State fans.

My latest post was about being excited to take the girls to a KSU football game and showing them around Manhattan. Then this happened today: a little boy was told he had to turn his Michigan shirt inside out because it went against the school dress code – which apparently only includes sportswear from Oklahoma schools.

Ah! Poor kid! Let him wear his favorite shirt!

One day, may all 5-year-olds be able to cheer for the college of their choice without being reprehended.

That is all I’m going to say about that.

I have been too busy to really pay attention to today’s news. Kate and I find ourselves pretty bored without Emma here during the day. So what did I do? I signed up for two free weeks on ancestry.com.

Oh dear Lord.

It’s worse than Pinterest. Don’t do it unless you have got some time on your hands.

I cannot stop researching my family history. And Scott’s family history.

Now, let it be known: I love history. So this perks my interest. But this is way more fascinating than just reading about the Civil War. This stuff is all in your blood! They all had children that led to you. It’s mind-blowing to think about.

I have traced Scott’s family back to the 1400s. I have found pictures from the Civil War of his great great great grandpa. He fought for the Union – win-ners! A few more generations back, a grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War – hey, Emma kinda started her own mini revolution for sports fans! I found the marriage documentation to his 11th great grandpa and grandma. They married in England in 1605. They arrived in Virginia in 1624 – WHAAA…that is like immediately after Pocahontas passed away. Several generations of men had two wives in their lifetime. One wife would pass away and then immediately the next year a new wife and new kid – I swear Scott, if you did that to me, I would haunt your ass. The ancestors I found in the 1400s were freakin’ knights. Bad ass knights. They were spoken very highly of from this guy:

Yeah. This guy is King Edward IV from England.

It is open-mouthed craziness to see the lineage and documentation to these people. And haven’t even gotten to any of the wives of each generation. You know they probably have some stories to tell. I really haven’t even touched my side too much. I’m held up at the border in Mexico on my mom’s side. I did find my great grandpa’s pass into the U.S. from Mexico. He arrived on Kate’s birthday in 1919. I like to think Kate could feel her great great Mexican grandpa swirling in her genes. She knew it was a good day to get out of Mexico or the womb.

My contacts are popping off my eyes because they are so dry, like right now – as I type. I’ve been staring at this computer screen nonstop. I fell asleep last night on ancestry.com’s app. Their app.

I have problems.

Maybe my great great great great great grandchild will come across this old blog.

Hey kid – your great great great great grandmother, Emma, was in the newspapers. Look her up. Do you know what a newspaper is? Or even paper?