udderly ridiculous and i don’t care

For a brief stint, after my oldest was born, I went back to work part-time-ish.

Since I was breastfeeding, I packed up my pump every day and did my thing in the “quiet room,” following the advice of my lactation consultant and all the websites that said to bring along a photo (or video) of your baby to help with the milk flow.

I think it worked – I mean, I came home with bottles of milk and I guess that was really the whole point.

Fast forward 11+ years and I’m home (and, obviously, very done with the breastfeeding days). I’ve had a few part-time jobs here and there, but the majority of my time has been spent at home, doing the home-schooling thing, and spending my days surrounded by my most favorite people – I’m literally living the life.

It comes with it’s fair share of cons of course, but 100% of those cons are money related, because living on one income is a struggle – one I have and will gladly endure for all the pros.

But in an effort to make a financial contribution before this last Christmas, I joined a few work-at-home sites and nearly funded our entire Christmas after just 2 months. 2 months of staying at home and doing the home-school thing, still surrounded by my favorite people. I just used the time that I would normally refresh my Facebook feed to find literally nothing new, to watch some videos and answer some questions and make a few bucks.

All of that to say this:

Yesterday, my husband and I went to look at/price things for the kitchen remodel that I want/need and I knew that I wanted a farmhouse, apron front sink. Husband is mostly okay with whatever I choose because he trusts my taste (I picked him, after all [eye-roll]).

But when I picked the solid copper farmhouse, apron front sink – the one with the heftiest price tag in all the land of sinks, he was all “OKAY, NO, YOU HAVE TO BE REALISTIC.”

I gently reminded him that I’m one of the most realistic people of all time – hence my melancholy disposition. But today, I’m sitting in front of my computer – watching videos and answering questions, with the printout of my fancy copper sink propped up near my monitor because I will get the sink of my dreams.



i’m the real fixer upper.

If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you know that I’ve been watching a lot of Fixer Upper. Turns out, I found the show just in time for them to be announcing their last season, so thank the good lord for reruns. (Why yes, I do live under a rock, thank you.)

Anyway, I awoke this morning to frozen pipes in the kitchen – the kitchen that I’m DYING to shiplap remodel – and to let you know where I’m at with the whole thing, I nonchalantly called my husband to fill him in on the news/not-really-news, while I filled my coffee pot in the bathroom and thought to myself “this could be it – if the pipes burst (again) and the whole place floods (again) I might actually get my kitchen remodel…!”

The pipes did not burst, so kind of a good news/bad news there.

But, as you know, remodels take money. And time. And more money. And we have very little of the money and come spring, we’ll have very little of the time either because sports. So husband is kinda, sorta rolling his eyes at me, but I’m determined. (And also very used to the eye-rolling because 11+ years of marriage.)

However, he is humoring me and is willing to go “look and get prices,” so I took measurements of our kitchen and a panoramic picture for reference.

“Doesn’t this panoramic make our kitchen look like crap…?”

“Huh? I thought it looked nice.”

“You and I have different standards, I think. Like, you always tell me that I look nice, but [barf emoji].”

“[heart eyes]”

He may not be down with the shiplap, but he sure knows how to make a girl feel like she didn’t spend all morning under the kitchen sink with a blow dryer.

Let’s get you caught up.

I don’t even remember the last time that I published anything on here, but I think it was probably before my hair was colored green and 1/3 of my kids had surgery and adding another dog to the crazy that is our house/life.

By now, my hair is that ugly blond that can only come after the green fades, another kid needs surgery, and the puppy is about to celebrate her first birthday.

Consider yourself caught up.

On to the important stuff: earlier this week, my husband and I got a helluva deal on a smart thermostat – I’m talking sale price, PLUS additional money off, PLUS a gift card to use at a later date, PLUS a rebate. It shipped to our house yesterday afternoon, but by the time we left my niece’s soccer practice, and grabbed tacos for dinner, and Christmas shopped, we didn’t get home until pretty late. But not so late that my husband – who has zero experience with wiring or thermostats and who once ACTUALLY referred to needle-nose pliers as “tweezer-pliers,” thought “hey, let’s install this thing.”

Let’s just say that we’re tired today and he’s probably extra tired of me because I did all the wiring while yelling “MACGRUBER.”

(Hairstyles and adenoids and puppies may change, but I am the same, always.)


Whenever my husband says something annoying (always), I like to say “ugh, you only feel like you can say that because Trump is president.”

And when he does something annoying (also always), I like to yell “THIS WOULD HAVE NEVER HAPPENED WITH HILLARY IN OFFICE.”

And we both laugh, but him a little less because he doesn’t actually think I’m funny.

Anyway. Today is International Women’s Day/A Day Without A Woman and so I sent my husband a text this morning, letting him know that I’d totally take the day off too, except that I have no idea who would let the puppies out or home-school the children…

He assured me that everyone here realizes my impact and, in his own words, is confident that “the house would burn down” without me, and that’s basically the best compliment a mom can get.

He’s not wrong either, because it would literally burn down if I were not here to keep the new puppy from chewing yet another hole in yet another cord.

[tornado emoji][toilet emoji][bomb emoji][squirt gun emoji]

(But, for real, do your thing, ladies – whatever that thing may be.)

Farewell, Princess.

By now, you’ve heard over and over again that the world has lost Carrie Fisher.

I can’t possibly say anything more than countless others have said about her empowering contribution to girls and women everywhere, or her candidness about her mental health issues, or her pictures of her dog, omg, her dog.

But I can’t just say nothing. (It’s not my style, you know that.)

She was obviously much more than a character, but her role as Princess/General Leia was my introduction to her, and you have to know how treasured she is in this house for my grief to make any sort of sense.

On a tangible scale, our house is full of toys and costumes and wigs and books and movies and posters – all bearing her resemblance and containing her story – a story that feels as much a part of my molecular structure as anything else.

But beyond that – and beyond her most notable character, you have to know how much I appreciate real people who talk about real things and how we all suffer when the world has less of those people.

Be real. THAT is empowering.

Miss you, girl.

(Leaving you with a picture of my oldest dressed as Leia years ago, because duh, it’s the cutest.)bella3


my life, guys.

Is it just a husband thing to be ready for any event in a matter of minutes, and then look upon his wife and kids with a “tsk” in his eye…?

I get it. We’re slow. Like, exceptionally slow. We’re the most low maintenance people that you’ll ever meet, we’re just really REALLY slow.

SORRY NOT SORRY. (I’m actually mostly sorry.)

I typically blame it on having to get myself ready, which – let’s be real – doesn’t look like much, but then also having to round the kids up and convince them to wear weather appropriate clothing, preferably forward-facing, and without ketchup on it. It’s no easy task, but I’m often left to it alone while my husband sits in the car.

Yea, his sitting in the car used to drive me crazy, but it’s a flaw I’ve grown to accept because that’s what you do in marriage, I guess. I accept his waiting in the car like we don’t even exist, and he tries really hard to just accept the sound of my coughing fits when I have a cold/flu.

Be still my heart.


Years have taught him, though, that rather than just heading to the car, it’s good social (and marital) etiquette to at least let us know that he’s ready and walking out the door. He actually does one better now and will say things like “guys, get your coats on” or “let’s get in the car.” I mean, he does those things whether your hands are covered in Fudgsicle from Grandma’s house or not, but baby steps. So on Thanksgiving, my son comes running up to me – hands covered in Fudgsicle from Grandma’s house – and whines “Mom, I need to wash my hands but Dad’s making us get ready to leave by saying the weird thing he always says…!”

“Oh my gosh. What’s the weird thing he always says…?”

Embarrassed, and through gritted teeth, my son says “that we need to bounce like Beyoncé…”

And then there’s that.

kids and presidents

This morning, I awoke to the news that Trump had won the presidency and, alongside that, COUNTLESS articles on Facebook titled something along the lines of “What will we tell our children?”

This evening, I read that children as young as 3 were crying because of the election results and that schools had extra staff on hand to help children “deal.”

I dunno about you guys, but I told my children and they were mostly all “oh ok. Hey mom, look at these zombies we’re drawing…”

(No pun intended by them as far as people and elections and zombies go, they’re just super obsessed with Plants vs. Zombies.)

See, they’re not concerned with the future of our country because they’re 8 and 9 years old. And that’s way ok. Now that doesn’t mean that they’re so in their own world that they don’t know about issues, or have ideas and opinions – even ones different than mine – it means that they have their whole adult life to be concerned with these things and they know that. They also know that they will likely experience things that either strengthen those opinions or flip them completely on end.

And that’s ok. As adults, I trust that they will handle it.

But as of right now, no matter the outcome, it was easy to tell them because they’re busy BEING CHILDREN. They’re busy playing Minecraft and soccer and toilet tag with the neighbor kids (don’t ask). It was also easy to tell them because we talk about the human condition on a regular basis – and how a vote one way or house control the other way will never do away with that. But more than that, it was easy to tell them because politicians do not direct their moral compass and celebrities are not their role models.

So, “what will we tell our children?”

I’ll probably just keep telling mine the same thing I always have – they seem to be ok.