The Concert that Changed Our Lives
Taylor had been telling me for the better part of a year about his friend from high school who has this amaaaaazing band (his words). I kind of shrugged it off because, honestly, who doesn’t have a friend from high school in a band? So several months later when I told him about this group I found on Spotify named Penny and Sparrow that he had to listen to, he just glared at me. Yes, same band. We’ve been obsessed ever since. I saw they were playing a show by us back in December, so I immediately bought tickets as a fun surprise for my guy. What started as a normal date…
The Magnitude of Perfection Perception
Waiting at the eye doctor yesterday, I read an article in People magazine about a beautiful 19 year old college student, Madison Holleran, who committed suicide last year. Something she said has been playing in my mind over and over. She talked about being in her dorm room late at night, scrolling through Instagram. She was already struggling with depression, but seeing post after post of her smiling, happy friends exacerbated it. “Why aren’t we happy like them?” she asked her roommate. Ugh. Suicide breaks my heart on a lot of levels, but the mention of social media along with suicide is…whatever word is 100x stronger than “horrible”. I talk…
My Favorite Kidnappers.
I have the post-holiday pudge. That gross feeling from too much peanut brittle and chocolate pie. My exercise routine has been less than stellar in recent months. Tonight, after scarfing down some tacos and 2 (ok 3. fine. 4.) cookies at our 8th grade small group, I went for a run. First off, running in the cold. Ew. You go from comfortable in your multi-layered workout gear to that horrible sweaty freeze in about 2.3 seconds. You know, when you’re kinda cold but also perspiring in weird places and, anyway, that. About a mile and a half in, I was sweaty-frozen and struggling. I saw a car up ahead that had been stopped at…
See ya, 2014. It’s been weird as always.
If we’re being honest, I don’t love celebrating New Year’s Eve. You get invited to parties that start at…what? 7?…and then last until past midnight. MIDNIGHT. (I am a strict 10-pm-bedtimer.) So you’re stuck at a party for 5 hours minimum. Sometimes they’re great. Sometimes they’re terrible. And when they’re terrible? You cannot leave. It’s against every unwritten social rule to leave before issuing in the new year with awkward kisses and televised ball drops. It’s just not my favorite thing ever, which is why I’m super excited to celebrate tonight at my house by playing a competitive game of rummy with my husband and father-in-law. (Seriously, can’t wait.) That said, closing out that…
For Unto Us
It’s that wonderful time of year again!!!!!!!!!!! Hah..ha…h… …is it just me or does December always seem to bring with it a heightened level of stress? And scrambling? Every year I promise to slow down. To enjoy the season. To focus on the point of it all. Yet every year I find myself panicked over forgetting Dad’s stocking stuffer. Or wondering if my sister-in-law actually liked her present. Or stressing about how much money I end up spending on “just one more little thing”. I wanted this year to be different for our family. I armed myself with an Advent study an activity-filled countdown calendar and plenty of grace because small children. And…
Oversized Baby Discrimination
It’s no secret – I am the proud mama of a chunky baby boy. And by chunky I mean giant. He’s just a giant ball of love. It’s part of his charm. The dude is irresistable. (I would insert comment here about gobbling him up, but the fact that 3 separate people sent me Buzzfeed’s “There’s Actually a Scientific Reason You Sometimes Want to Eat Your Baby” article last week tells me I should steer away from future cannibalistic statements.) So, as the proud mama of a chunky baby boy, a sad reality has come to my attention. Something that needs addressing ASAP. The world, as we know it, is not designed for oversized babies. …
The Journey of Postpartum Baldness
Getting my annual haircut a few weeks ago, my hairdresser Shelby inquired about my rather unique hairline. She pointed to a patch of baby hairs and said, “What’s the deal with these?” I paused, unsure how to proceed. How much to tell her. I took a deep breath, and started in with my story. “Settle in, Shelbs. I’m going to take you on a journey that started 9 months ago, after the birth of my sweet baby. It’s a story full of difficulty. Of injustice. Of perseverance. It’s a story of….postpartum hair loss.” I didn’t realize I was a victim for quite some time. My newborn was projectile vomiting, my toddler was…
Parenting Past the Physical
I was in class with a group of middle schoolers recently, where the topic for discussion was… …sex. (Always an exciting discussion, amiright??) So there they sat, beads of perspiration on their brow, palms sweating profusely. The awkwardness was palpable. The teacher was discussing abstinence; specifically, how to safeguard yourself from getting into questionable situations. He talked about setting a curfew with your boyfriend/girlfriend, not going into a bedroom alone, having accountability, etc. All good suggestions. Suggestions that were given to me at that age, actually. Suggestions that my own parents enforced in their home. Times haven’t changed. Except, as I began to realize, they kind of have. A few months ago…
Sock Bandit & Costume Roundup
The face of a little boy that tried to eat a snail*. And a wood chip. And an acorn. And smashed bug guts. The great outdoors are fun, aren’t they? (*picture taken by the mom who actually debated for a few seconds between messing up freshly painted nails or digging the snail out. #boymompropz) Sock Bandit When Beckett was about a year old, he developed a love affair with the Swiffer. Like, would whine and cry to play with it at play dates, instead of the thousands of mom-tested, kid-approved toys in front of him. Hutton is following suit. Not with a Swiffer, but something equally as awkward: socks. All shapes and…
Bad Luck Mack
You know the Bad Luck Brian meme? That is my dog in real life. If there is a situation that could go wrong with a dog, he’s your dude. He is Bad Luck Mack. If you know anything about our dog, you know that he’s a handful. He’s a nervous Nancy who quite possibly suffers from an anxiety disorder. You may also know that his anxiety has skyrocketed again recently. (Having nothing to do with the accidental tail severing. Haha…hah…ha..h.) We thought we could solve the issue by just sticking him in the back yard any time we left the house (which is when his anxiety kicks in), but a letter from the city…
