Some people have them, some people don’t. I defiantly think I fall into the category of having them. I was born on 9/ 5 at 5:59 am, I was 5lbs 9 oz. we were in room 19 on the 5th floor. We were there for nine days.
I don’t necessarily believe in luck. I think life happens and you make you own. What ever you want to call it, luck, charma, God’s will, what ever, it is all about what you make of it. Life will throw you curve balls and you have to swing, you either hit a homerun and become the hero of your team, or you swing and miss. Either way, at least you can say you swung.
That being said, the validity of my lucky numbers hit me when I turned 9, my mom said I could get my ears pierced. I remember walking into the mall in California, and thinking, “gee I am the luckiest girl ever!” Since that moment, it has never failed me, and so far has climaxed to the point that when I was 19, I met my amazing husband who live 5 doors down from me. 9 months later we moved in together, 5 months later we were married. Then the amazing 9 months of pregnancy hit. Now, I am sitting here and my baby boy is nine months old, and I couldn’t be any happier!
I was born and raised on army bases, born and bred in Church, and I am a God fearing, gun shooting, jean wearing, c-sectioned, broken boob formula feeding, husband loving, baby cuddling, BAMF MILF. I stand by what I believe, and I believe what I know. Some people might call me a redneck, and it’s a name I will wear proudly. There is no shame in still having Christmas lights on your house, even though its almost May, right? I have a ford in my drive way, a shot gun in my closet, and a freedom I will fight to defend. And in all things, I know I am extremely lucky.
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