Sometimes I wish for an off button. A time where I don’t have to mother. Where I don’t have to count to three or remind my preschooler to wash his hands after he scratches his testicles.


Because that’s gross, and now you have ball sweat under your fingernails.

What’s ball sweat?


I feel like it’s hard right now. There’s always something that must be done, and my body hurts, and my stomach is hungry. But their needs are immediate, and mine can wait.

Sometimes I yell, because I’ve said it four times already to find your shoes and get into the car. Yet the shoes are unfound and the car is empty. And then my mouth opens and the words fall out, they are angry and threatening. Because I am angry.

But I press on, considering this time to be the hardest. I keep telling myself that this is hard, and soon it will be light and I’ll try to remember the hard, because I will be alone and lonely, and I’ll crave the gentle sound of a baby squealing.IMG_3253

Sometimes I just want to be alone in a room with my own thoughts, thoughts that are careless and wandering. What would I think of if I didn’t have small children to occupy my mind?

Would I think of travel, or new shoes, or llamas, or clouds?IMG_3188

I think I would think of freedom. The thought billows around my mind, and presses against my skull, looking for a way out.

Being a mom feels like wearing a chain. A chain that connects me to three little people, that I put on like a piece of jewelry, and I feel its weight on my skin. It’s heavy, although I never take it off. It connects me to their heartbeats, their words, their hands. And then I think of the great pleasure it is raising children. The discoveries, the newness, the wildness. Their world is huge, but then it isn’t. It’s this home, it’s their room, it’s the space between us when we hug and don’t let go. Where little hands wrap tighter around my neck, where their sweet voice whispers in my ear, “I love you mommy,” without prompting, because there is so much love and it can’t be held in. It must spill out, of their mouths, out of their arms, because their world is huge, and small at the same time.

I wear their love like a chain that I can never take off. Even though it’s heavy, I never want take it off.  Day dreams and unfettered thoughts of llamas will just have to wait, because I’m busy bringing up babies, and babies don’t keep.


What I Wore Wednesday

Today’s What I Wore Wednesday is brought to you by the letter C and the word comfort.

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Because, you guys, I’m basically wearing pajamas.

Cozy pants with an elastic waist band to accommodate the occasional handful of chocolate chip cookies as the mood strikes, from Nordstrom.

T-shirt that I cut the neck and sleeves off of, and I sometimes wear while sleeping, from Ever.

Sleeveless sweater from Ever that also doubles as a nursing cover?  Yessss ma’am.

Favorite boots in the whole wide world, from Zara.

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Floating Airplants: Flora in the Hallway

airplants: hippobrigade.com

Over the weekend, we noticed our hallway was sad, and lonely and needed something.


Photos are too conventional and expected, so we headed over to the gardening store and bought some airplants. The fantastic thing about airplants is they don’t need soil to survive. They’re minimal, and simple, and that’s just how I like it.


My smart husband decided the best way to hang them would be a few hook and eye screws. To which I replied, “GENIUS!” And we got started.


I served project manager, as Pat measured, mathed, and twisted those suckers into the wall.

…And voilà!

Or should I say,



To keep them alive and majestic, I have to soak them overnight every two weeks.



Let them dry.


And enjoy!


Now I want more.

What I Wore Wednesday

It dawned on me that I’m wearing things on Wednesday, well, all the days actually, and I’m not telling you about it and that has to change.

Also, I started my Bible study group back up on Wednesdays, so it works out that I’m usually presentable enough to be socializing in public and sharing what I look like with you.

And now, I present to you what I look like today:

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Hudson is taking my photos and I’m afraid he’s going to drop the phone, hence my awkward grabby hand.

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I’m wearing my most favorite outfit ever. It’s a denim onsie? Mechanic coveralls? Farmer overalls?

Whatever it is it’s cozy as heck, and easy to wear.

Only bummer is my butt looks awful in it, so please don’t spend time looking back there.

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Overalls: Anthropologie

Boots: Zara

Black lace bandeau: Free People

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What are you guys wearing today?

Adventures in Sewing

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When we finally realized that the sun from Silas’ East facing window was waking him up every morning, I started to look for some curtains to keep it dark, so the whole house could sleep in a little bit.

Teensy bit.


Much like being alone while pooping, sleeping until 7:25 is a luxury that I rarely get to indulge in.

After looking at Anthropologie and Land of Nod for cute curtains, I cried a little bit, because Anthro wants $250.00 per panel. That’s $500.00 bucks for curtains people!

Enter Ikea.

I keep trying to quit Ikea, but I’m a glutton for their meatballs, and I keep coming back for more. Just kidding their meatballs are gross, I like the rediculously low prices, and trying to pronounce their Swedish products.



So I bribed my tribe with soft serve, and took them to Ikea, they bounced on beds and smacked chairs, and I searched out the perfect curtains.
I was unimpressed with their selection, so I bought 5 yards of fabric instead, because I’m really good at sewing.

Except not at all. My mom never sewed. And my step-mom is a wizard seamstress, and tried to teach me once, but all I heard was measure this and mathematic that, and really I’m not much of a numbers girl. I enjoy the tried and true “eyeball” method for most things in my life.

But now I was the proud owner of 5 yards of fabric, and I had some eyeballing and sewing to do.

Also, 5 yards of fabric for $25.00!

So for $25.00 you’d better believe I was going to sew the crap out of that fabric.

Anthropologie can shove it. I didn’t want your whimsical bird curtains anyways.



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But don’t behold too closely, because you’ll see my shoddy workmanship:

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That Time I was in a Modeling Class

So I’ve already established that I’m not a soccer mom. But I keep feeling this nagging sensation that I need to enroll my daughter into some extracurricular activity.

I think it’s because when I was younger I was in a ton of stuff.

It was probably because my mom needed a break from my energy.

I was a bit of a handful.

The problem with all my extracurriculars, was that I was never in them long enough to get good or to make friends. I just jumped from thing to thing avoiding recitals or end of the year parties, awkward hand shakes or promises to call over the summer.

Between the ages of 7-10 I was in tap, ballet, softball, gymnastics, piano, and modeling.

The modeling class was the worst. I don’t know what convinced me to sign up for it. It was the early nineties and I was a gawky pre-teen: permed hair and a unibrow, long limbs and high waisted jean shorts, Keds and snap-at-the-crotch body suits.

The modeling class was supposed to teach poise and confidence; how to answer interview questions and walk a runway. I can imagine the people running the class were just as confused as we, the students, were. They had to try to find “modeling” curriculum for a bunch of 10-12 year old girls with self-esteem issues for an hour every Thursday night in the Jewish temple rec-room before the janitor came through with his vacuum. And we just sat fidgeting, with our chairs in a circle, sharing with the class on what modeling meant to us.

One night we did a video interview. I had to answer questions like, if you wearing a forest green silk vest, what accessories would you match with it.

The answer was, duh, a burgundy corduroy scrunchie and plastic hoop earrings.

Another night was spent determining what our seasonal color pallet was.

Obviously, I was an autumn.

Then there was figuring out what your best angles were during a photo shoot.

And the last night was runway.

Walk, walk, walk, pose, pivot, pose, pivot, walk walk walk.

Complete waste of time.

Especially since they told me that at 5’2 I would never be a runway model.

Oh the agony.

I could have been watching Saved by the Bell or shoving the cat in the drawer where I keep my stretchy leggings.

But as it turns out, I proved them wrong because since then I’ve walked two runways. That’s right people, I am basically Gisele Bundchen. So thank you modeling class of ’91, you were worth the 53 dollars and voucher for 25% off at Glamour Shots.

In college I walked in my friend’s fashion show.

I think I wore a cut up sweater that said Jesus loves me.

And while I was at Paul Mitchell the School, I was asked to do a hair show.

I had to walk a wobbly runway with a Lichtenstein inspired mini-dress with orange hair while hair professionals from all over the country took pictures with their flip camera phones.

I’m the one in the red dress with the pink blanket on my lap. We all have a variation of a bowl cut.

Growing that one out was rough.


And there I am in the middle.


(The shortest one)

Now I wonder if that voucher for Glamour Shots is still good…

a note to my husband on love

We brought these kids to life, you and I.


Living breathing people. Humans with teeth and hair and elbows and we did that. They were nothing but a sliver of love on a branch that was made into a swing that we sat on one day when you proposed to me, and now they are all here, in our rooms, vibrating our walls with their sounds and tears, and their laughter that causes my lips to pull up at the sides and my skin to shimmer with a chill. God is here too. He is our ultimate parent. Breathing life into our bodies and creating us to dance and feel and taste and joy. Oh joy.

But why? I think for love.

It’s all for naught if there is no love.

It beams out of us like rays of sunshine on a day when there are clouds, and you think you don’t need your sunglasses, but then the sun comes through and it makes you squint, and then you’re reaching into your bag and your fingers search for your glasses, because your eyes hurt from the brightness. It’s like that. Love.

For me it’s these tangled moments where all this stuff is happening around me and dinner is on the stove and the baby has his hand in the dog’s water bowl and the older kids are arguing over a green marker and then the late afternoon sun comes through the window. It’s filtered light shining all over the messy table and bouncing around the room, and I realize that I’m in love. With the noise and the chaos and the voices because they are my voices. They are our legacy. They are our love.


Our living love shooting around our house with teeth and hair and elbows.

And I am in love.

Back to School

So, it just got real.

All of it.



Because school is back in session, lunches need to be packed, and kids need to be driven around places, which is weird, because I have a first grader now, and if she can handle reading chapter books and adding three-digit numbers together, I’m pretty sure she can handle a stick shift. No? Maybe next year. Arn’t kids in Kansas driving their tractors to school at age 8? Maybe we should move to Kansas. Whatever.

Oh and a note about lunches: I packed some chocolate chip bunny graham crackers as Berlyn’s snack the other day.


I’m almost positive those are healthy because I bought them at Whole Foods, plus they say “homegrown” right on the box, and I’m pretty sure that means vegetables are used in the recipe. And as my daughter was delightfully munching her crackers on the very first day of school, a teacher wanders over and tells her that tomorrow she needs to bring a healthier snack.


This is coming from a school where other student’s parents send them off with extra nacho cheese Doritos, and Pop Tarts, and chocolate milk. The same school who feeds my daughter brightly frosted cupcakes from the grocery store and doughnuts and Kool-Aid and Nestle Toll House ice cream sandwiches on “ice cream Fridays” and you’re telling me that my snack isn’t healthy enough for her?!




Not cool school. Not cool.

So my days have moved from being lazy and weird and purposeless to hurried and crazy. We’re mostly late and I’m going to forget when it’s bring a show-and-tell, and is a frozen burrito an acceptable lunch for a three-year old? They have access to microwaves, right?

Yup, my three-year old started school.



He’s preschooling it like a boss. Pat and I dropped him off on the first day and he was all, peace out M and D. I got this. So then Pat and I shrugged, gave each other a high-five and then went out for pancakes.

Now two-thirds of my children are in school, and for a few hours every other day excluding holidays and weekends, it is peaceful. Well, that is if Silas naps. THEN, oh, sweet then, is when it is truly peaceful. So that’s what my September through June looks like. And if you want to hang out with me, then you have to meet me somewhere no farther than 10 minutes from my house on a Tuesday or Thursday in between 10:30 and 11:30. Sound good? Great.

And we’ll cheers to a new school year.


With our latte cups of course.

Retro Americana


Or that unidentified blob that floats around in a lava lamp.

That was my summer.

We thought we were going to move this summer. Find a new adventure, have a new beginning somewhere else. But instead we stayed, and stayed. And we didn’t plan a trip anywhere. To make our summer more memorable, and less blahhhh, we decided to quickly pack up our people and pug and go to Santa Barbara.


But because staying in hotels is for chumps, we stayed in an Airstream.


For those taking notes, it was called the Santa Barbara Auto Camp, and they have five redesigned and restored Airstreams. Ours was the most “original” with this birch wood cabinets and rose pink bathroom.


The bathroom looked just like my grandma’s. But what really set it apart was the Airstream was stocked with Malin+Goetz toiletries, while grandma’s just has Breck extra hold hairspray.

We stopped at Figueroa Mountain Brewery.


The beach


The Santa Barbara Mission




And then the beach again.


Here’s our only photo with all of us, and hey, look at us, we’re all wearing backpacks!

I’m pretty sure the kids had a good time.


Zoey had a good time.


We had a good time.




Cool Backpacks for School

As a mom, we all have to draw our line in the sand somewhere, a place you’re not willing to go beyond. For me it’s many things: I won’t let my kids wear Crocs, I won’t drive a mini van, and I won’t let them have a Dora the Expolora backpack. I’m a meanie, right?

My 6 year old daughter is starting first grade in the fall and needed a proper backpack. Because her taste level cannot be trusted,  I had to scour the internet for some non-princess choices to present to her.

Here were my top pics:


cool backpacks for school

1. Watermelon backpack by Lazy Oaf x Nasty Gal

2. Coral Peaches by JanSport

3. Herschel Supply Co. for crewcuts

4. Herschel Supply Co. for Tea

5. Denim-dye by Mi-Pac

6. Fjallraven Kanken 

We already have the Fjallraven and offered that to our daughter, but of course she snubbed her nose at, because I need something neuw mooomm! So finally she made a decision on the pink striped Herschel one from JCrew.

Done and done and no Dora.

Everybody wins.