You Can't Make This Shit Up
A Memoir
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Hi, I'm Staci. Born after a failed vasectomy, mother of four by 22, and proud survivor of multiple marriages, haunted hayrides, and three separate Heimlich maneuvers. This is not your average inspirational memoir. It's more like if trauma had a group chat with sarcasm, glitter, and questionable life choices. In these pages, you'll find: ¿ The time one kid superglued the other's eye shut ¿ The exact moment I kicked a machete barefoot on a kayak trip (spoiler: blood. so much blood) ¿ The lie where I convinced my daughters they were triplets ¿ The legendary day I walked into a light pole in S...
Hi, I'm Staci. Born after a failed vasectomy, mother of four by 22, and proud survivor of multiple marriages, haunted hayrides, and three separate Heimlich maneuvers. This is not your average inspirational memoir. It's more like if trauma had a group chat with sarcasm, glitter, and questionable life choices. In these pages, you'll find: ¿ The time one kid superglued the other's eye shut ¿ The exact moment I kicked a machete barefoot on a kayak trip (spoiler: blood. so much blood) ¿ The lie where I convinced my daughters they were triplets ¿ The legendary day I walked into a light pole in Salem, Massachusetts ¿ And that one time I tried to cross the street and ended up in a whole other state You'll also meet Randy the raccoon (I thought he moved to the barn-he didn't), my husband Josiah (aka my mail escort), and Tia-the She to my Nanigans. If you like your memoirs raw, ridiculous, and laced with "did she really just say that?"-welcome home. I'm not here to teach you how to live your best life. I'm here to remind you that sometimes, surviving it at all deserves a damn trophy. You can't make this shit up. But I did live it. And now? I'm handing it to you-messy, hilarious, and absolutely unfiltered.
