Love, Jam.

A retrospective glance into Jam's life: A decade has passed since those spirited days, and I find myself in a vastly different chapter of life. The wild nights have made way for quiet moments of joy and the subtle satisfaction of watching a family flourish. Through this transformative journey, I continue to share my experiences, still inviting readers to witness the metamorphosis from a carefree undergrad; sorority chick - to a resilient woman navigating the intricate tapestry of family life. As we embark on this new narrative, rest assured that all posts originate from my perspective unless explicitly stated otherwise. Join me in exploring the poignant, humorous, and sometimes chaotic moments that define this latest chapter of my life; Jam's life.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

SONA 2025: The Rich Were Praised, the Poor Were Helped, and the Middle Class Was Forgotten (Again)

President Marcos’ 4th State of the Nation Address was filled with numbers, promises, and applause lines. He talked about growth, foreign investment, and how millions of Filipinos were lifted from poverty.

“We logged ₱950 billion and ₱45.48 billion in investment pledges in the first half of 2024.”

“Almost ₱3 trillion worth of green-lane certified projects are underway.”

— SONA 2025

The government proudly celebrated the rich bringing in capital and the poor receiving assistance. And that’s not a bad thing. It’s good that we’re attracting investors and helping those most in need.

“2.5 million Filipinos have been lifted from poverty.”

“1.7 million fewer Filipinos can’t afford food.”

— SONA 2025

But let’s be honest about who was left out. Again.

🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️The middle class.

The ones working overtime to fund those very investments.

The ones paying full taxes with no ayuda, no subsidies, no exemptions.

The ones who carry this economy but get nothing in return.

No tax breaks. No public praise. No targeted programs.

We’re just expected to keep paying—and keep quiet.

Meanwhile, the rich have exemptions. They know how to work the system. And the poor, as they should, get support.

But us? We get billed.

We’re not against helping the poor. We’re not against encouraging investment. But we are against a system that feeds and funds everyone except the people holding it together.

Let’s talk about 4Ps. Yes, it’s helped a lot of families. But let’s not pretend the system isn’t flawed. Many of us know people receiving government support who are living better than those working 9 to 6 jobs every day just to get by. Some even have cars and small businesses, while we’re still calculating our grocery budget down to the last peso.

We’re not asking for handouts—we’re asking for balance.

Because when you keep handing people fish without teaching them how to fish, no one moves forward. And the people who already know how to fish? We’re drowning in silence, because we’re never even acknowledged.

We’re the ones who file taxes on time.

Who don’t qualify for anything.

Who get told “you’re not poor, be grateful.”

But in this economy? That line is getting blurry real fast.

“Poverty went down,” they said.

But what they didn’t say is that the middle class is sliding closer to it every day.

We’re not just tired—we’re invisible.

⸻

📢 So here’s our SONA:

We are the taxed.

The tired.

The ones who get no credit but pay for everyone else’s.

We’re not the elite.

We’re not the underserved.

We’re the ones in between—and we’re falling through the cracks.

⸻

Reblog if you feel this.

Comment if you’re tired of being ignored.

Because the middle class deserves to be seen, too.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

TAYLOR SWIFT - If This Is What Manipulation Looks Like, Manipulate Me More.

By a very tired Swiftie who’s done explaining this.

People love to say Taylor Swift is calculated. That she’s manipulative. That she blocks other artists from charting, re-releases old music to scam us, and makes millions off fans who don’t know any better.

But here’s the thing: nobody’s being tricked. We’re just paying attention.

If someone can re-record songs from almost 20 years ago and still chart higher than half the industry, maybe it’s not because she’s manipulative, it’s because she’s iconic. Maybe other artists should take notes instead of taking shots.

The idea that she’s somehow “forcing” us to stream her music or buy multiple vinyls is wild. Taylor isn’t in our DMs begging us to pre-save an album or line up for the Eras Tour at 2 a.m. We do it because we want to. We do it because she gives us something real.

I’m happy she owns her work now. All of it. Every word, every harmony, every re-recorded breath. The fact that she got to finish Debut, the album that started everything, is poetic. She didn’t just reclaim her past, she honored it. And I know she’ll give it to us when she’s ready. It’s not just an album anymore, it’s sacred. It’s hers. And we’ll be lucky to hear it again, undeserving ears and all.

And Reputation? It can stay in the vault (For Now!). Let it hiss. Let it plot. Let it sleep with one eye open. Because the truth is, Reputation isn’t the thing that needs defending anymore, her actual reputation is already intact. Solid. Untouchable. She doesn’t need to prove anything. She already did.

I’m tired of people acting like it’s a crime for a woman to know what she’s doing and win. Like it’s bad to be strategic and self-aware and build a universe that fans actually feel part of. If that’s being “calculated,” then fine… calculate me too.

You Can’t Cancel a Woman Who Already Reclaimed Herself.

The truth? Most artists drop a single, go viral for a week, and vanish. Taylor builds eras. She writes for our worst heartbreaks and biggest dreams. She soundtracks our lives. She’s never been just about music, it’s always been about storytelling, connection, memory. That’s why we keep coming back. That’s why it works.

I’ve spent money on her, yes. I’ve cried to her lyrics, blasted her songs at 3 a.m., watched every theory thread on TikTok, and felt seen in ways I didn’t think pop music could do. Not because I’m brainwashed, but because I care.

@taylorswift , if you ever see this: we see you. We know you’re working harder than anyone else in the game. We know you’re not here to compete, you’re creating your own lane. And if that upsets people, maybe it’s because they can’t keep up.

You’re not manipulating us. You’re giving us everything. And we want more. Every. Single. Time.

And no offense to the haters, but if being this loved is a scam… I’ll happily keep getting scammed.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

Daddy issues but make it historical - King Henry VIII

Anne vs. Katherine? Sure, drama. But imagine being Mary or Elizabeth: Your dad’s out here switching wives like fits, declaring you “illegitimate” one day, royal the next. Childhood? Just vibes and emotional trauma. Born to wear crowns, raised in the ruins of your parents’ mess. And the one man who started it all? Bro couldn’t even manage himself.

So I AI’d King Henry VIII (Hahaha, lol priorities.) Yeah, the six-wives, catholic church rift, can’t-keep-it-in-his-pants Henry. And surprise: he kinda looks like my intimidating boss/client or that strict uncle who only shows up at family reunions, drunk and cocky haha.

But here’s the thing. He wasn’t just a messy husband. He was a disaster of a dad.

Now look at this. Mary and Elizabeth, his daughters. In modern AI, they look like twins. Literally sisters!! Like they just finished brunch, trauma-dumping at the back of an Uber and are on their way to drag a man on TikTok.

But IRL? They grew up ripped apart by their dad’s drama. Declared illegitimate, exiled from court, used as pawns. Mary was daddy’s favorite, until she wasn’t. Elizabeth? Smart, brilliant, but never really seen by him. Henry’s love had conditions. And when they didn’t play by his rules? He dropped them like yesterday’s scandal.

Imagine if he just… showed up. As a father. Not a king. Not a man on an ego trip. Just a dad. Maybe Mary wouldn’t have ruled with so much pain in her chest. Maybe Elizabeth wouldn’t have built walls so high she never let love in.

They could’ve been close. Sisters. Allies. Instead, history turned them into cold rulers who had to survive in a world built by a man who never gave them what mattered most.

We live in a world now where everyone’s talking about girlhood, inner child healing and generational trauma.

And honestly? Mary and Elizabeth were the blueprint.

They were daughters of a man who changed the world for his own desires, but never once changed for the people who needed him most.

So yeah, AI gave us their faces. But if you look closer, it shows you what could’ve been. Not just queens. Just two daughters who deserved to be loved better.

Reblog if you were ever the daughter that had to survive alone.

Reblog for the girls who turned into queens because no one gave them the space to just be girls.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

The Complexity of Anne Boleyn: Never the Victim

I love Anne Boleyn. I really do. Her story, her power, the way she walked into history and said no, I won’t be just another woman you use and throw away. She flipped the entire monarchy on its head. She was smart, driven, and honestly iconic. But here’s the thing that no one really says loud enough: she rose by tearing another woman down. And I can’t ignore that.

Anne knew Henry was married. She knew Queen Catherine wasn’t just some random woman, she was a queen of twenty years, loved, respected, and incredibly strong. Anne saw that, and still decided to center herself in that mess. She didn’t just fall into it. She played it. She knew how to pull Henry in. And she won. But she won by being the downfall of another woman. And that’s where I get stuck.

Because yes, Henry was the true villain here. He’s the one who started this. He couldn’t keep it in his pants, couldn’t stand being told no, and he changed the entire religion of a country just to get what he wanted. He’s the worst. But Anne wasn’t powerless. She made choices. She chose to be part of Catherine’s suffering. And no matter how amazing she was, that choice matters.

It’s wild how she acted like she was all about power and equality and being more than a man’s plaything, but only when it suited her. She didn’t care about other women unless it helped her climb. She wasn’t fighting for women. She was fighting for herself. And that’s not feminism. That’s survival. Which I get… but let’s not dress it up as something noble.

And honestly, the tragedy writes itself. She helped Henry learn he could change the rules anytime they stopped working for him. And that’s exactly what he did to her. She couldn’t give him a son, and suddenly all the power she had meant nothing. The same man who destroyed a queen to be with her, destroyed her to make room for someone else. That’s not just karma. That’s a cycle she helped build.

Could she have survived if she played it safer? If she shut her mouth more, made less enemies, didn’t go toe-to-toe with the king? Maybe. But she wouldn’t have been Anne. That fight in her, that “fire” why she changed history at all. But it’s also why she burned.

It’s complicated. I love her. I admire her. But I don’t excuse her. She wasn’t just a victim. She was also the beginning of the problem. And I think it’s okay to hold both truths. We can love a woman’s strength while also calling out the pain she caused on her way up.

Anne’s story isn’t clean. It’s messy and tragic and powerful. And maybe that’s why it still matters. Because it shows us what happens when women are forced to survive in a world designed to break them, and what happens when, in trying to win, they end up becoming part of that same system.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

Royalty Is a Duty, Not a Brand: Why We Need to Rethink How Titles Work

I say this as someone who deeply loves and respects the Crown: the monarchy is one of the most fascinating, enduring institutions in the world. It’s rich in history, wrapped in tradition, and when done right, should be rooted in duty. There’s something powerful about a system that survives by adapting through generations, offering continuity in a world that constantly shifts.

But here’s what frustrates me: when that duty gets blurred, and royal privilege becomes a tool for personal profit.

We’re watching a strange trend unfold, where people who have stepped away from royal responsibilities still carry royal titles, and worse, use them as branding tools. They show up on book covers, podcast intros, business pitches, baby gifts. It’s subtle. It’s strategic. And it’s wrong.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about being bitter. It’s about boundaries.

You can’t publicly separate yourself from the monarchy, say you want a “private life,” reject its expectations, distance yourself from its legacy and then still benefit from its prestige. That’s like quitting your job but still expecting the paycheck and the office clout.

The solution is simple, modern, and fair:

When the monarch changes, titles should reset.

No more life-long duchies handed out like eternal golden tickets. Titles like Duke, Duchess, and HRH should be re-evaluated with each new reign, and only kept by those who:

• Are actively serving the Crown

• Are in the monarch’s direct working family

• Uphold the values of duty, service, and neutrality

Because if you’re not representing the institution, you shouldn’t get to profit from it. Period.

This isn’t about being anti-royal. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s about protecting the monarchy from dilution and confusion. The Crown shouldn’t be a side hustle for ex-royals. It should remain sacred, symbolic, and tied to responsibility.

The monarchy will survive,no t because of fame, but because of principle. And the best way to protect that principle is to make sure the titles mean something. To make sure the privilege stays with the duty, not the exit.

Because if royalty becomes a brand, and not a service, it loses its purpose.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

4

December 16, 2023: I entered the testing area of the diagnostic center and was instructed to empty my bladder before the TransV Ultrasound started. Same as the last diagnostic center we went to, taking photos and videos is also not allowed here. Additionally, only patients are permitted inside the Ultrasound Room, leaving my husband and son waiting outside the door which was unsettling. The OB-Sonologist finally inserted the thingymajiggy inside me after the previous condoms burst twice, stating that I’m resisting it. (Tho, I’m not. I’m just tight like that. Chos. Hahaha.)

___

Following the events from my last post, my OB-GYN recommended continuing with my current medication and emphasized the importance of religiously taking Duphaston as it would help with my Subchorionic Hemorrhage. She highlighted the need for me to rest, suggested reducing my intake of sugary foods and liquids, and mentioned scheduling a blood sugar test after a month of fasting. Internally, I sense that my OB-GYN might be downplaying my actual condition, perhaps to shield me from unnecessary stress.

I continued with my daily routine, the difference from my previous pregnancy and this pregnancy is that getting enough sleep is a challenge. My shift begins at 10:00 PM, typically, I wrap up all my tasks by 4:00 AM just to be prepared in case I start feeling sleepy. I inform my agents, take a break, and return by 5:30 to 6:00 AM. I consolidate my lunch and breaks into one, perks of working from home then I end my shift at 7:00 AM with all tasks completed. I'm really proud of myself and my multi-tasking skills.

___

While she’s doing her thing with the thingymajiggy, I shared with her the previous result, which she confirmed—indicating that I indeed have Subchorionic Hemorrhage.However, her next words sent a shiver through my spine, making me want to scream and crumble. “May nadinig ka bang heartbeat sa first ultrasound mo? Kasi wala akong madinig ngayon e. Sana mali ako…” I'm at a loss for words. I can't seem to recall if I heard any heartbeat myself, but suddenly, I remembered the previous results etched into my memory. Meron, 118bpm yata yun e. The doctor adjusted the monitor to face me, displaying my uterus, the supposed location of the hemorrhage, and my baby's placement. “Kung may heartbeat na narerecognize ang machine dapat mag-iiba yung color ng lining sa screen. Pero look oh, tahimik. Wala talaga mommy e.” The only way for me to navigate the situation is to quickly go on defense mode. From an emotionally charged Cancer Woman to being the Dark-Humored Girly that I am. “Doc, check mo ulit, baka bobo lang ‘yan, nakalimutan tumibok.” She looked at me with visible pity and concluded the session with, "Indicate ko nalang lahat dito, then just show it to your OB-GYN, mommy, okay? Okay na po. Balikan mo nalang result maybe after 1-2 hours, mommy.“ I quietly walked out the door and found my husband waiting outside with our only child, my only baby. Searching my eyes, he immediately sensed something was wrong and asked what's going on. I quickly and quietly replied, “Wag dito, dun na sa labas.”

Entering the car, I broke down. I cried and cried and cried some more. My intense and loud crying likely scared my 9-year-old son. He cupped my cheeks, making the sincerest effort to comfort and console me, helping me regain my composure as I held onto his hands. Meanwhile, my other hand received small kisses from my husband. I tried so hard to reiterate what had transpired inside the ultrasound room as clearly and completely as I could. And then we cried some more.

With my side of the family currently out of the country, my husband chose to drive to his parents' place for some much-needed comfort. His sisters and I decided to go out and eat, not fully accepting the reality of the situation. We’re laughing about various unrelated topics, all the while pretending that everything is still okay.

Driving home, tears flowed once again. The weight of my OB-GYN's response to the message I left regarding the result hung heavily in my mind: “Intayin mo na lang duguin ka, bago kita raspahin.” It was a statement I was never prepared to hear or read.

___

More to come.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

3

December 10, 2023: Looking in the mirror, the weariness of recent days showed on my face, making even simple tasks like getting ready for a bath a bit challenging. I couldn't help but laugh at my reflection, because I look a bit of an effin' homeless hobo. My growing bump, feeling a bit heavy and seemed bigger than expected, is a typical trait from my Poppa's side of the family. Memories of a similar experience with my first baby, JD, made me smile. I miss JD being a baby. He’s so big now.

Despite the restlessness, my dedication to the creature inside me remains strong. I continue to take Duphaston, Pre-Natal Vitamins, and Anmum to ensure that whatever it is inside me remains healthy. I am still adjusting from my new norm of working from home but today felt different; I woke up feeling a little better from getting a good night’s sleep which was a relief from the preceding restless and insomnia driven days then I decided, it’s time for my 1st TransV Ultrasound.

En route to the diagnostic center, a thought crossed my mind: is it safe to ride a motorcycle in my condition? A thought I quickly dismissed. There’s not much of a line there compared to hospitals, I had other preggy tests done first, then came the ultrasound. Excitement built as I prepared to see my baby for the first time, I prepared my phone putting it on record when I noticed a sign saying that taking photo’s and video’s are not allowed. It frustrated me since I remember it being okay during JD’s time. How will I see my baby moving in my tummy when I’m at home, tho?

The Sonoligist already inserted the thingymajiggy inside me when I noticed a sudden change in her face, then came in the question, “Nagsspotting ka ba?” I answered, “No, why? May problema po ba?” My heart raced as I bombarded her with all sorts of questions, but the stupid bitch’s only response was “Pabasa mo nalang sa OB mo, or kung gusto mo dito ka na pacheck-up?” I tried so hard not to punch her in the face, I kept my cool and told her “It’s okay, mabilis naman mag respond and OB-GYN ko sa mga messages ko, salamat.” My husband stared at me, aware that this bitch’s testing of my patience was pushing my pregnant limits. On our way out of the room, a word she uttered to her assistant grabbed my attention; “Subchorionic Hemorrhage”.

My heart races fast because such a big word must mean something really bad. While calmly waiting for the Transvaginal Ultrasound results, the receptionist hands me my other preggy test results, assuring everything is normal except for my elevated blood sugar. Which was ironic, considering my pregnancy cravings revolve around all things mango. Yet, this was the least of my worry, as I've already googled the unfamiliar term voiced by the sonologist.

Despite our initial plans to visit my in-laws, my husband decided to head home, driving his motorcycle obnoxiously slow, somewhat realizing that using the motorcycle today might not have been his best choice. Anxiously, I clutch my stomach, praying that whatever it is inside me is fine.

Praying and hoping that everything will be fine.

—

More to come.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

2

December 2, 2023: I was scheduled to visit my long-time OB-Gynecologist, the same doctor who delivered JD nine years ago. I candidly told her about the extent of my recent alcohol consumption, nicotine indulgence, the stress stemming from my recent resignation, and the Barangay Elections, along with lower back and dysmenorrhea-like pain. Her advice was clear: take it slow, as she diagnosed me with “Threatened Abortion,” indicating a high-risk pregnancy, similar to JD’s. I was advised to limit physical and intimate activities and, if possible, request a work-from-home setup because I am determined to continue working.

—

Before the appointment, I had already shared this with a few people – family, closest friends, and relevant colleagues. Most of them said that it does explain hella lot, explaining sudden decisions like leaving Teleperformance without giving them a room to stop me, the fatigue, emotional turbulence and evident heartbreak during the Barangay Elections, and as well as other shifts in my behavior.

And amidst all of the realization, a question struck me. Pinagttripan ba ako ni God?! Is this a cosmic-joke?! Just two-weeks in a new job, a 24-month financial commitment over an almost 100K computer that I impulsively bought 2-days ago. Plans to renovate the house with my Poppa and put a down payment on a condo unit now seem far from reach, again.

—

Following the OB-GYN appointment, I decided to already confide to my new boss about the situation, which to my surprise, she promptly went out of her way and arranged a work-from-home setup for me as soon as possible.

—

December 5, 2023: I found myself already working from home. Perhaps the decision to swiftly leave Teleperformance was guided by a higher understanding—that God knows that I wouldn't have this favorable setup if I had stayed there. As I sit at my desk, I realize that the almost 100K computer purchased on a whim one Saturday afternoon is now instrumental in this newfound arrangement. It's as if everything is falling into place, making perfect sense.

I just have to wait and see what happens next.

—

More to come.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

1

November 27, 2023: The morning after a typical night of casual drinking session with my husband, with a half-lit cigarette dangled between my fingers as I rested my feet at the edge of the tub while sitting in the loo, comfortably. I decided that it was finally time to unwrap the pregnancy test he purchased a week earlier. I had been putting off using it for days just cause, I don’t know, maybe due to a nonchalant acceptance of previous negative outcomes or the habitual irregularity caused by my off-pill phases. It just seemed insignificant anymore.

As the Two Lines materialized on the strip, I found myself choking on the smoke from the cigarette between my fingers. From the initial thought of recording a quirky reaction post to the realization of a month-long revelry in alcohol consumption, my mind traversed to chaos.

“Sana nirecord ko para may emeng reaction post” morphed into “Tangina, isang buwan akong lasing,” then shifted to concerns about recent X-rays, Carbocisteine and Melatonin intake, eventually landing to “Hala, yung Eras Tour sa SG, taena.”

I immediately cried out to my sister, “Janellaaaaa! Tignan mo nga yan!” To which she responded “Hala buntis ka? Huy nagyoyosi ka pa!”

Then I thought Is it possible to get a false positive from a pregnancy test? To google I went. Simultaneously, I messaged my husband, requesting another pregnancy test. Called me to ask why with the biggest smile. Unbeknownst to many, we had been discreetly trying, secretly wishing we can still have 1 more. A little girl. Someone we can call, Jeanna Zephryn, JZ for short.

I tried one more PT that same day and another one the next day, both had the same result, both had the same Two Lines.

—

50% of me refused to believe that this is true just cause I’m scared that I, we, might get disappointed. As per dr. google, PCOS can cause false positive pregnancy and I won’t know after I get a TransV Ultrasound. 50% of me is secretly speaking to the whatever it is inside me, hoping that it will be safe. Hoping that it’s a baby. Wishing for it to be healthy which backed-up with me already taking Duphaston and Pre-Natal Vitamins that my OB-GYN recommended.

—

More to come.

[aftertheheavydrinking]

HEY, STRANGER.

After numerous attempts to recover my old Tumblr account, I've reached a point where I've decided to let it go. Instead, I've embraced a fresh start by creating a new account and reblogging all the posts I had there. The only drawback is that I had a private journal dedicated to my firstborn son on that account, intending to print it out as a special gift for him. However, dwelling on the past won't change things.

Time for a clean slate...

Hello! It feels like it's been ages since I allowed myself to immerse in the joy of writing. Life has kept me busy, and I momentarily forgot how much I used to love this creative outlet. Recent events have prompted me to reevaluate and decide that it's the perfect time to rediscover the therapeutic practice of journaling and embrace the joy of writing once more. While Facebook served as my outlet for the past few years, recent developments in my life have led me to believe that my Facebook friends may not be as engaged in reading about my experiences and thoughts. Consequently, I've shifted my focus to Tumblr as a platform where I can freely express myself and share what's happening in my life on a more personal level with. One of the positive aspects is the anonymity that comes with using Tumblr. Not knowing who's reading my works allows me the freedom to express myself without feeling the pressure of potential awkwardness. For those who happen to know me on a personal level, feel free to drop a casual "hi." Let's keep it light, and there's no need to delve into discussions about what I share on here.

I've decided to repost the series I've been sharing on Facebook right here on this account. Keep in mind that this content is incredibly personal to me. If you feel inclined, feel free to leave a message and let's start a conversation. I'm open to connecting and discussing the topics that matter to me.

Love, Jam.

[iliveandletlive-blog]

Honest.

Joseph: Love, ilang beses ka na-inlove?

Jam: Dalawa.

Joseph: Bakit hindi sakin lang?!!!

Jam: Hindi kasi ako sinungaling.. I love you.

[iliveandletlive-blog]

02.14.15

Spent the whole day on the road. Literally! 

12nn kami umalis ng bahay to pick up my baby bro’s date sa Villamore for the Valentines Hop ng PNPA. Almost 5pm na kami nakarating sa Silang, Cavite. Then wala pang 5mins umalis na kami ‘cause iniwan namin si JD with my in-laws. Sobrang traffic, kahit nagskyway na kami 10pm na kami nakarating sa QC! Walang stop-over. Ang torture ng Vday. Still, masaya kasi we were able to bond over the traffic.

Goodnight.

[iliveandletlive-blog]

Valentines Day.

* Jam scrolling on Facebook

Jam: Flowers... flowers... cake... life sized teddy... flowers... chessy message... flowers... flowers......

* Joseph came up with a bottle of redhorse.

Joseph: 'Yan na mahal.

Jam: Ang sweet... Aww... GRR!

Joseph: Ano 'yan?

Joseph: Mahal, tandaan mo... Kahit hindi ako ganyan... Nandito ka palagi *points heart habang buhay. Forever.

Jam: Leche, wala kong mapost sa facebook badtrip! *Slurps beer

[iliveandletlive-blog]

“I have a mouth, I can speak what’s on my mind. I don’t live to please everyone & sugar coat shit.”

— iliveandletlive

[iliveandletlive-blog]

Redhorse with The Husband.

So, I really am in the mood for a beer or two. But my fugly husband wanted to drink somewhere else because of, you know, the baby. But his buddy cancelled on the last minute. So being the alcoholic that he is (and I), he decided to get drunk with me instead. 2nd choice? Oh well.. At least I got what I wanted, right? No sweat! :)

[iliveandletlive-blog]

Because Moms do selfies too. 💋

[iliveandletlive-blog]

Selfie with the Chunky Little Love ❤️ [02.03.15]