I was running the vacuum through our bedroom for the umpteenth time last week when I accidentally sucked up the tail of one of Stuart’s ties. Don’t tell him that. And don’t tell my Mom that I was using her vacuum that I borrowed, oh, I don’t know… eight months ago. (Neither of those is
It was a small instance that triggered my emotions this morning. As I drove up the road to my friend Lauren’s house to drop the kids off for a few hours (as I’ve done a dozen times), my view caught the street sign – ‘Dana’. If one were to drive down Dana, then take a quick
Sometimes, I’ve just got to take a step back and admit “I’m not that woman.” As much as I’d like to be, I’m just not. This time of year, I’m aware of it all the more. While other Mom’s are setting up tablescapes and decorating sugar cookies like turkeys, I’m just keepin’ my head above
Oh life. Crazy, mad, life. It’s days like this that I feel like a giant oxymoron. In my attempt at a calm, simple, and organized life, I’ve found myself once again in the beautiful tornado that is…well, my life. My Life Is… Life as a mother is awesome. Love those rascals – especially the super
A quick note: Most of you know about my insanely handsome and wonderful husband, Stuart. He may not make an appearance on the blog as often as beard-loving-women would hope, but know he’s always behind the scenes encouraging, advising, and working on the homestead. I’ve asked him to do a short series of posts with me
As I type these words, I am completely exhausted by this motherhood-business. I’ve spent the last 45 minutes trying to convince my 4 and (almost) 2 year old that bed really is where they need to be. They don’t need mittens. They don’t need more milk. They don’t need another story. They don’t need to have
I use a lot of essential oils. Like. A lot of them. And I love them. Let’s just all remember that as we continue on in this post, shall we? As many of you know, I sell and promote essential oils and am happy to do so. I love the company. I love the product.
When Daddy’s away, Mama takes a 20 minutes car ride into town for overpriced lattes all too often. And when Daddy’s away, the eggs don’t get collected for days on end because it’s never the most pressing task at hand. When Daddy’s away, Mama texts him “S.O.S.” too many times in a 24 hour span.
I can’t do it all. Surprising, I know. But still I get emails and messages from readers each day asking me ‘How do you do it all?’ Short answer: I don’t. Each new phase of life that we’ve moved into has caused us to reassess, reevaluate, and re-prioritize. And that’s good. I’d even venture to
I can only assume that the Lord wanted me to retell this story in a different way because the ‘Publish’ button I struck earlier today resulted in a completely lost birthing story that was approximately 1,592,492 words long. Let’s pretend like I totally kept my cool and didn’t slam the laptop shut and shuffle off