Cydell, CY, C

I can tell how long someone has been in my life based on what they call me. Cydell- total rookie in my life. I’m sorry, I probably scare you. CY- You’ve probably known me my whole life, and I probably still scare you. C- You’re an OG, ride or die, and probably know every one of my inside jokes, movie quotes, and can tell what I’m thinking by a single look. which is scary in it’s own right.

I’m tall (5’9”), blonde, green-ish eyes, and an athletic build. I have long legs, broad shoulders and a long neck. I also have freckles, including one on my lip, a few scars, and some stretch marks. I’m obsessed with fake eyelashes, fake nails, and a good fake tan. I drink, cuss, burp, and fart. I am an unapologetic selfie, and first trap taker. I’m a terrible liar, and everything I think is plastered on my face. I’m not for everyone, and it doesn’t hurt my feelings even a tiny bit if you decide I’m not for you.

I have four kids. Two girls and two boys. They are my world, four pieces of my heart. They are the hardest and the best things I have ever done. They are hilarious and frustrating. They are my biggest triumph and my biggest challenge. They make feel like the best and worst mom in the span of about five minutes. They are the perfect paradox. They are my biggest teachers, the reason I fight, the reason I dream, and the reason I push to be the best version of me everyday. I will stop at nothing for them. I also stop at the liquor store a lot because of them. Just kidding. Kinda. They are wild. Like feral. And I love it. Being a mom is one of my favorite things to do. I have learned more about myself from being a mom than anything else I’ve ever done. Seeing the world through their eyes is the single most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced. They let me think I’m the one teaching them about life. They give me the grace to fall, get back up again, help me dust off, and try to be better. They also probably laugh at me when I fall. I tell them I love them probably 50 times a day.

I’m the oldest of four kids, and my sisters and brother are my best friends. We often say the same thing at the exact same time, we can communicate entirely in movie quotes, and we can guess each other’s movie from one sound. We are built in besties. I’m not sure how my mom birthed four slightly different versions of the same person. Four brains, one braincell. Raising kids with my sisters, and having a sounding board with two incredible women, and mamas, who love my babies just as much as I do is the best thing ever. My mom is a retired Special Ed teacher, has patience beyond my wildest dreams, and is the most selfless person I have ever met. My dad works in the nuclear industry, is obsessed with peanut butter cookies, and I inherited his smart-ass sense of humor. My parents have been married for 42 years and still kiss every time they get out of the car. I love huge holiday gatherings, and I get to host Thanksgiving! I love my home filled with kids, friends, laughter and chaos. Family is my jam. I’m not sure how I got so lucky to have the family I do, but I fully understand, love, and appreciate how incredible it is.

I have six nieces and nephews (actually five nephews and one niece), and being Auntie CY is one of my favorite things in the world. I get to be utterly ridiculous, tease them, spoil them, and then chalk it all up to being the crazy auntie. I also get the privilege of fiercely loving them and having their backs. I regularly remind them that Auntie CY gets to be unhinged in ways their parents can’t be, and that I won’t deal with anyone being disrespectful, or treating them like shit without doing something about it. I’m not afraid to have a conversation on their behalf, give dirty looks to someone who made them feel less than, and threaten to beat up a mean kid’s mom. Even though I’m only kidding, kinda. I would take a bullet for those babies, and they know it. They also know I will do the most outrageous things for them without a single second of hesitation. I make it painfully obvious to my brother that I’m ready for more nieces and nephews.

I come from a HUGE extended family. My dad had 12 brothers and sisters, but my grandma was pregnant SIXTEEN TIMES! She was still having kids when her kids were having kids. Most of my aunts and uncles lived in the same small town we grew in. At last count I had 60 some cousins. I have to specify when people ask me about my friends, because most of my friends are my cousins. Everyone knew the Tuck family (my maiden name), and we couldn’t get away with shit. One time my cousin ditched school and decided to walk home, but she had to walk by the cafe where a bunch of our uncles were eating, so they called her dad and busted her. We all look super similar. At one point there were ten of my cousins in our high school at the same time, and four in one grade.

I’m a small town girl. I grew up in a tiny town with roads that didn’t get paved until I was in high school. My family lived in the last house on a dead end dirt road, and my parents have eight acres outside of the tiny town. We grew up with chickens,  pigs, and cows that we raised and butchered. I loved it. We also had a sheep that we rode. His name was Lambert. I have a phobia of chickens (alektorophobia). Like seriously. I don’t even like looking at them. And I hate birds in general. My graduating class had 58 people in it.

I love Trulys, gin and tonics (Tanqueray Rangpur, extra lime), sweet red wine, and a good margaritas (rocks, salt). I hate beer. I would cut a bitch for some tacos and queso. Bonus points if it’s from Jefe’s. I can’t eat food that has a bone in it (chicken wings, ribs, etc.) The thought of my teeth scraping against a bone while I’m eating seriously makes my skin crawl. My 90 year old grandmother told me she thought it was fucked up. Verbatim what she said to me. The melon family, as a whole, makes me want to vomit. Yes, even watermelon. I think La Croix is the disgusting. I would rather take a sharp stick to the eye than have to eat a tomato raw. Even cutting them up sicks me out. I like my coffee with lots of processed creamer, sugar free, obvi. If you ever buy me coffee, I’ll take a large sugar free vanilla latte with almond milk and an extra shot. I like to cook, and I make enough food so that we’re covered in case there is some sort of apocalypse. I can’t help it. Come over if you’re hungry. I also usually have a secret stash of Oreo’s, Red Vines (Twizzlers suck. Fight me.), or Swiss Cake Rolls. Brunch is my love language. And any time it’s acceptable to drink in the morning, you know I’m down. I think dessert is always necessary. Some of my faves are tiramisu, Key Lime pie, chocolate cake, and creme brûlée. I almost cried once when my kids ate my tiramisu and I didn’t get any.

I love black, gold, and lime green. I also love joggers, all black outfits, leggings, jean shorts, white tank tops, anything cropped, soft hoodies, and messy buns. I have an aversion to color in my wardrobe. Black, white and nude are my staples. The only colorful things I own are shoes, a head to toe tye-dye ‘fit that I got as a gift, and I’m obsessed with it. Adidas Superstars and NMDs, Chuck Taylor All-Stars, Air Max 90s, Uggs and slides are life. I have a thing for high heels. They make me feel like I can conquer the world. And they make me ridiculously tall. Like over 6”. I love it. I love looooooong, fake nails, and I do them myself. They’re painted white 99% of the time. If you see me without my nails done or eyelashes on, question my wellbeing.

I love to read (Harry Potter, Jack Reacher and Jocko Willink are some of my faves), watch murder documentaries (I’m basic like that)and pedicures (white polish only). I’m loud and I don’t mean to be. I have a talent for saying something super inappropriate the second it gets quiet in a room. I’m a little offensive. I’m honest. Sometimes things come out of my mouth before it even registers in my brain as a thought. My filter is definitely broken. I like old muscle cars, the Beatles, thunderstorms, and fireworks. I love driving a stick shift. I can probably spit farther than you can and I don’t have a problem peeing outside (I grew up in the country, remember!). I enjoy cussing and feel like a well placed f bomb doesn’t get enough cred. I have a talent for being able to slip the word fuck into any sentence or situation. I have a thing for 90’s rap, country, and oldies, and I always have music playing. I love tattoos. I have more than 30, and sometimes I tattoo myself. One of my friends has a tattoo of me on his whooooooole back as an angel. A view of the mountains makes my heart feel peaceful, but the lull of the ocean speaks to my soul. I’m fiercely loyal and I’m not afraid to turn it off if it’s betrayed. My resting bitch face has been known to turn people to stone. I relate to situations with movie quotes. If you can’t guess my quote I think less of you as a human (kidding... kind of). I grew up playing volleyball, and I love spandex. I can burp hugely and it gets me a lot of side eye. Idgaf. I sound like a dying animal when I sing (it doesn’t stop me) and I can’t dance (unless I’ve had a drink or two). Well, I still can’t, but I do it anyway.

The only reason my house is ever semi-clean is because I love to rage clean on adderall (I have a prescription. Chill). I really love organizing. Bins, color coding, and everything in it’s place turns me on. I hate folding and putting away clothes and I can’t understand why socks never have a match. I have the cutest laundry room, and it’s always drowning in clean clothes. I can never remember if my dishwasher is clean or dirty. I leave dishes in the sink overnight. If I don’t vacuum at least every two days I get tumbleweeds of fur on my floor from my sweet, enormous, dumb dumb Maverick. He’s a Saint Bernard.

You’ll learn more about me as we go along, but those are the basics of who I am. Thanks for life-ing with me, and making me feel less like a weirdo. Love you!